What Happened after Rishi
by reulte
Summary: Evidence indicates that Hevy survived the manually detonated blast on Rishi Outpost and was picked up by Separatist Commander Asajj Ventress.   COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1  Prologue

This is my first submission here. Critical review welcome. Since I am new - if you have any technical advice, please be detailed.

Assumptions: I don't own Star Wars. I have seen the movies and animations, but haven't read a single Star Wars book. Go figure. My only 'change' from cannon, as I know it, is that some clones have a slight mutation which allows them to reach full maturity at 12 instead of 10 and they have a normal lifespan. Assuming they get really lucky and survive everything else. A simple game while you're reading - figure out which clone here has this mutation.

Please enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 1

Most of the troopers gulped the ration bars in chunks but Rex tucked bits in his cheek to let it soften. It lasted longer, was better digested and staved off hunger longer. He sucked the sweetness out of it. He leaned against a crack in the boulder, letting stone take the force of the wind. In the darkness the remains of Rishi Outpost and the _Obex_ looked like the boulders of the cratered moon. The infrareds in his helmet illumed where an eel was hibernating in its den and the light-glints of his brother clones through the broken ribs and charred walls of the building. There was no other movement. He could hear Cody, Echo and Fives through the com unit as they searched through the building remains. Rex breathed deeply, expecting the tang of smoke but smelling only the chill atmosphere. There was nothing out here but you still set a guard. Normally that would have been the lower ranked Echo or Fives, but Rex had volunteered so the remainder of Hevy's squad could search for his remains. That loyalty had been bred into them. During battle you ignored anything not your objective, but after battle you searched. Afterwards, you went and you found your squad brothers – alive and wounded or dead and beyond any further pain. They'd found the remains of the others – even Cutup's body in mutilated armor by one of the shallow craters near the station. But Hevy had detonated the explosive manually. He'd been in the center of that maelstrom of fire and pyroclastic shards.

They'd gone through what wreckage they could immediately after the explosion with help from the LAAR/tis., but fire and hot metal had stalled their search for Hevy's remains. It wouldn't have been a long wait until the fire burned itself out. There were few flammable items on the outpost outside the armory and the LT would have burnt out in only a few hours. But the call had come from Kamino first and The Resolute had been rushed back to the only planet the clones knew as home. Even now, they were officially off-duty and had only a limited time before The Resolute moved onward in the slow, never-ending chase. General Skywalker had given them what time he could.

"He should be here." That was Fives' voice, frustrated. There was the rattle of metal on the stone of the outpost's floor as though he'd pushed aside metal debris. "

"Here are the remains of the plunk. Flowered out and shrapneled." Cody was referring to the distinctive pattern of an explosive in an enclosed space.

There was silence although Rex could hear them moving about, Fives hissing under his breath , each clone shoving aside whatever was in his way.

"I don't like this." Cody's voice was soft.

"What, Commander?"

"Hevy isn't here, but what else do you not see?"

Echo was the one who answered. Echo was quiet but didn't seem to miss anything. "No droids. No parts."

And that was bad news. Droids would take droid parts from a battlefield, although not for the same reasons that the clones were looking for Hevy. Tinnies could use those extra parts for repair or reuse. A self-resurrecting army so to speak; but they'd have no use for a human body. Rex pushed himself from the stone and loped towards the remnants of the outpost. "No use for a dead body," he muttered softly, "and only limited use for a live one."

If your brother wasn't there, you moved on. Moreover, they'd have to report to General Skywalker that someone – very likely the Separtists – had returned to the moon and picked up the pieces.

"Check the computer terminals. See if they've been accessed." Rex ordered. "Someone has come by and removed a few souvenirs, including Hevy's remains. Make sure they weren't able to retrieve any information or find out what they did remove."

Commander Cody was giving his own orders. "Check the armory, make sure there's nothing useful. Check for any attempts at unauthorized entry."

"Yes, sir." Replied Echo and Fives each moving to a task with Cody and Rex to back them up. Echo quickly checked computer consoles with Rex glancing over his shoulder. Fives and Cody quickly moved towards the armory.

* * *

Fives tossed his helmet onto his bunk. "Nothing," He said angrily. "There isn't enough of Hevy to …." He stopped, at a loss for words and scowled. Fives leaned against the wall and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just some bloody smears."

"That doesn't make sense," said Echo as he glanced up. "LT blows up and out. It sublimates and it's the fumes that burn. It only exploded because it was enclosed in the plunk droid. It doesn't burn hot enough to disintegrate things. Not droid metal. Not armor." He reached towards one of his manuals but was sure of the facts. "Not flesh."

"That's what the Captain said. But at the moment it's all wipe up from Kamino and chasing bad guys so they're assuming Hevy's body was eaten by one of the eels or removed by the droids when they came and got their part-ners." He dragged out the last word to make a pun which was ignored. Fives sat heavily on his bunk and began removing his armor from his hands and arms. "That doesn't sit well with the Commander or Captain. Even the Jedis don't like it but can't think of anything else." He turned slightly, giving his back to Echo, who absently detached the backplate for him. Fives took it and placed it with his lames and vambraces then removed the breastplate. Relieved of the upper half of his armor, he stretched his shoulders and arms to loosen his cramped muscles then lay back with his head against the wall. He'd been lucky to be assigned the corner bunk, usually the privilege of a more senior trooper.

Echo thumbed through several pages of his manual. "You need your armor resized if you get …hey, what's this?" He peered at the manual, slowly turning to the next page then flipped back, his lips moving as though he were reading. "Fives, hand me your bucket." Echo reached out a hand to take the helmet which Fives handed him. "You were searching the epicenter of the blast weren't you? Where Hevy had to have been?"

"Yeah. He had to detonate manually. If he'd fixed the remote, Hevy would have been out of there and down with us watching the fireworks." Fives closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds, his breath soft and even.

Cross-legged on his new bunk, Echo tinkered with the controls in Fives' helmet, going back to just a few days ago. Before Kamino – now that had taken the shine off their armor. He yawned, as exhausted as Fives, but his mind wouldn't let him sleep. Echo watched what Fives' helmet had recorded as they had searched for Hevy's remains. It had been uploaded into the main computer and was available on the main vids, if anyone wanted to see them, but Rishi Outpost was a dead issue now. Its importance had been to observe for an attack and it had served that purpose. Echo preferred the helmet view since there was none of the slight distortion evident in moving from the curved inner screen to a flat holovid screen. There was no interference from someone wanting to watch a bolo game. On a 24-hour ship, someone was always watching the common room vid.

He watched the playback, seeing with new eyes what Fives had seen as they searched Rishi. Echo had taken the outer rooms of the outpost, marking O'Niner and finding Cutup. Commander Cody had been there, but the station had been theirs and he had let them search in their way and fashion, pointing out only those things he had from experience. Captain Rex had even taken perimeter guard duty, usually reserved for the rawest shiny. The monitors in Fives helmet clicked on to their search. Echo saw the pit of the blast center, floors, mottled black where tibanna had spilled and burned on the floor, dark scorched in other areas. Among the scorching were elongated outlines. He zoomed back, the helmet extrapolating the data as if he were 3 meters above the blast epicenter, and gasped. "Up and out," he whispered to himself then smiled.

"Fives!"

"What?" muttered Fives, instantly awake and not happy about it.

"Hevy didn't die in the blast."

* * *

Rex looked at Echo and Fives. He hadn't been happy to be woken but he had, apparently, more rest then either of them. In exhaustion their traits had reversed. The normally verbal Fives was standing quietly while Echo spoke and waved his hands to the helmet.

"See, sir? It's like a circular target." He gestured at the screen where he'd sent the vid to his captain. "The pit – that's the blast epicenter. It isn't that deep because tibanna's burns as a gas. It blows up. Directionally up and then out." Echo pointed to emphasize the direction then waved his arms in a circle as if to illustration the explosion's actions. "Less downward force." Echo stopped the vid at a point where Fives had been looking at the walls of the burnt-out shell and pointed. A black band about chest high was evident. "You can see here." Again he pointed, "And here where the major portion of the blast hit the walls." He touched a slightly lighter spot on the screen. "Here's the outline of one of the OOMs – too skinny for a clone." Echo glanced into Rex's face who nodded as he saw the curved outline of a B1 droid head. "And here," he touched the controls and the view spun slightly, "here's a super. Obviously not Hevy." Echo touched the controls and the image slowly circled. "No blast shadow for a clone on the blast going out. And as for up," He paused.

Rex spoke for him. "We'll assume Hevy wasn't sitting on the plunks."

"Even if he had been, we would have found more traces of him where we found pieces of the plunk – the blast perimeter." Echo slowed as he spoke of Hevy, then his voice picked up animation again. "But look here." Again, Echo manipulated the image. "This is extrapolated from the images. I've added some light to the extrapolation. We were searching at night and the helmet lights wouldn't be sufficient." The view seemed to be above the blast site, about ceiling high, and daylight rather than the moving circles of light from helmets. From that image Rex could see what had caused Echo's excitement. In the center of the target was the shallow blast pit circled by scorch marks circled, in turn, by the blackness of burn that crept up the wall to the ceiling and had destroyed the droids. A clone size, clone shaped area on the floor next to the pit was untouched and it was in the scorched area rather than the burnt blackness.

"I've done the calculations, Captain. And had one of the engineer droids check my numbers. This area," Echo's finger rested on the scorched circle. "Wouldn't have gotten any hotter than the tolerances of his armor. Hevy could have survived, sir. Captain." His voluble stream of words flagged.

Rex looked at Fives and the trooper straightened. "He's doing all the talking. Why are you here."

"To make sure he didn't bring his manuals and the calculations, sir. And to catch him when he falls."

"Ah," murmured Rex. "Good man. Returned to your quarters and get some sleep gentlemen. That IS an order. Bring me the calculations later." He gestured them out as he touched the vid screen. The two clones moved from the Captain's quarters as Rex leaned over the screen. He brought up the duty schedule and check for Echo and Fives next duty. Echo was to report in two hours and Rex shifted it back, substituting another trooper. Fives was coming onto a break, no change needed there. Rex sent a message to General Skywalker – not a wake-up call as the clones had done him – about the new evidence and then he went into Hevy's file and changed the KIA to MIA and set it aside. He wasn't pleased about this. Echo and Fives had been too tired to think beyond Hevy's survival but it would come to them. If Hevy had survived, then it was very likely that he had been picked up by Separatist forces on the rebound from Kamino. If that was the case, then it would probably have been better if Hevy had died quickly in the explosion.


	2. Chapter 2 Waking

Chapter 2

Hevy had a headache that wouldn't quit and some tapping didn't help. He wanted to snap at Echo to stop it. It had to be Echo because he always tapped his fingers against the table when he read, but Hevy couldn't speak. Only a soft release from his lungs let him know that he had tried. He felt weightless and couldn't feel anything – neither temperature nor texture. He tried to rub his finger and thumb together and couldn't tell whether or not he had succeeded. A thought came slowly to mind. He shouldn't be blind. Another thought came and he remembered pressing the detonator; the noise that rushed over his helmet and back like a panicked living creature, the light that seemed to swallow him. Maybe he was blind. He could feel numbness of painkiller and the deep internal _wrongness_ that told him he had internal injuries.

Another thought came and he was pleased with himself - three coherent thoughts in a row. But the last thought only confused him more. It shouldn't hurt to be dead. Softly, both headache and consciousness faded.

Hevy woke again. His mind was still awash in a haze of not-thoughts. Again there was nothing to anchor him physically, neither numbness nor pain. He started sorting things he did know, running backward in his memory. He was dead – no, he wasn't sure of that anymore – but he should be dead, had given himself up for dead and that he knew. He'd felt the heat and pressure of the explosion when he had pressed the detonator, seen that blue incandescence of the liquid tibanna before his helmet cut in with the dampers. Where had that been? Rishi Outpost – right. Why had he set the explosion? Yes, the droids had taken the station. Why hadn't he used the remote? Why? His mind slipped into blackness.

Hevy decided that he had to be alive and decided that he'd survived the blast on Rishi Outpost. He hoped he had been brought to Kamino. He had to be in a bacta tank. There were none on Rishi or anywhere else within 1000 parsecs. A thought flitted through his mind that he was a prisoner, but he set it aside, not wanting to think of that. Maybe he was on one of the star destroyer served by Commander Cody or Captain Rex. Since the sensory deprivation of stasis healing was its own kind of torture, normal procedure was to knock out the patient. Something must have gone wrong. Mentally he laughed at that thought – he'd been in an explosion. There probably wasn't much else that could go wrong after that. It was going to be a hell of a wait. Hevy might as well do something useful.

Hevy started at the beginning with childish things. The beginning was Aurebesh. In his mind he recited the alphabet and visualized each individual letter, hearing them vocalized by the teaching droid. He moved on to numbers, the _Resol'nare_, military codes and command structures. Names of clones he'd trained with, names of trainers. He made sure to pick the images out of memory, it would have been too easy for his mind to fool him and, as it was, difficulty was his only proof that it was memory. He remembered songs and stories of _Mandalor_. He remembered receiving his armor – who'd been beside him, CT-6835, behind him – that would have been Echo. His armor shined in the well-lit chamber, stark white. He tried on his helmet, tested the HUD and returned it to the Kaminoan for a minor adjustment to the audio-controls. What had she said? Something about hearing? Something? His memory caught it. "We have misjudged the frequencies. All of the clones have hearing more accurate than we planned for." Hevy faded as her voice faded.

Hevy was awake now, not slipping in and out of consciousness. He slept when it felt right and remembered while he was awake. No one came to recertify him for duty. So he walked through his memory. He practiced what they'd been taught on Kamino – from sparring to marching regulations. As his mind remembered the moves, he tried to engage his muscles. He couldn't feel them and didn't know if they moved, but it felt exhausting. He'd fall asleep then – sometimes remembering the feel of his bunk around him.

Now he was in the armory. The Z-6 always felt good in his hands, pressed against his ribs for stability against the recoil. He saved it for last, planning on moving into armored ground vehicles next. Hevy dismantled the big blaster, setting the barrels aside for cleaning and the energy pack for recharging. Carefully, he removed the coolant core from the central shaft. Already he was remembering the last time he'd actually done this in person – there'd been a blemish on the finish of top barrel, a sliver of metal that had caught at his fingers as he rubbed the warm metal. They'd recently been practicing. He stopped for a moment to check his memory. When had he actually last cleaned the Z-6? Rishi Outpost, two nights before the attack. What else had he done that night? That wasn't hard. All they'd ever done on Rishi was monitor and clean and monitor and talk and monitor. He pushed back at his memory. There had to be something different about that night than all the other nights he'd spent there. Two nights before the attack there was monitoring. He pictured it carefully. Memory not imagination, he told himself and felt satisfied as he remembered the song that Echo had recited and a joke about nerf herders he had told Fives. Rude, of course. All nerf herder jokes were rude. Satisfied this was memory, Hevy let his mind go back to the Z-6 and he flicked open the lock holding the metal belts to release the roller and cams. His fingers blurred and he recognized that he was cheating – letting imagination take over. There was a tendency to do that with the weaponry, with things that he didn't have to think about outside the bactatank. He slowed down, letting his muscles remember the heft of the blaster, letting his skin remember the cool, smooth hardness of metal, the uneven plateaus of the cam. Using his mind to remember - not to play tricks. Hevy slowed his fingers from the unconscious speed with which he actually disassembled the big weapon.

"Why are your fingers twitching?" It was a soft voice.

Hevy was shocked into mental stillness. The remembered blaster vanished from his mind. It was still dark and weightless and touchless, but he wasn't alone. He'd never been in a bacta tank before but there was a procedure to follow. First gradual lights, gurgling noises as the bacta fluid was slowly cycled out of the tank. Not this blackness and a human voice. But then, they hadn't knocked him out either.

The voice was young but there shouldn't be any cadets on board a capital ship. Not this close to enemy lines. If they were close to enemy lines. Hevy gave a mental laugh as he realized he didn't actually know where he was. A soft, low noise came from nearby and Hevy realized it was his – more a grunt than a chuckle, more a moan than an actual verbalization. Suddenly he felt tired, weak. His back itched and tingled.

"I'm detaching the painkillers. It was a different voice. Female. "If you need them let me know. You should be able to talk into the breather mask.

"CT-26-," he whispered, "6958, Trooper. Rishi Outpost." Hevy wasn't ready for this. It had been one of his first ten coherent thoughts. He had to assume he'd been captured. He had to assume he was on his own. He had to assume that Separatist forces had kept him alive for information, that they'd break him and wring from him every bit of information he'd ever known. He had to assume that waking up was simply going to introduce him to an even worse day than getting blown up had been. He wasn't ready for the inevitability.

"Do you need painkillers?"

"CT-26-6958." His voice hurt and he could feel, finally, tears in his eyes.

* * *

I'm having a lot of fun writing about Hevy although he isn't cooperating with me. He doesn't want to go through what I've ultimately got planned for him and we are discussing this. He's quite a stubborn character but since he is an imaginary person, I suspect I'll win. However, this means that I've hit a bit of a road block while we try to come up with a compromise. I suspect Chapter 3 will be ready by next Friday. Hevy also says that his 'official' number is CT-26-6958 but he occasionally goes by CT-782 due to a bureaucratic error which they are trying to straighten out.

I've tried to put in paragraph indentations and apologize for any spelling errors (mine) or canon errors (Hevy's not admitting responsibility for those so they must be mine also). Wookieepedia is a great help.

All critiques are warmly welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

"Foolish clone." The woman's voice snarled and the hissing voice abruptly turned to one of the droids. "Remove him from the tank. Do not let him near anything that may be construed as a weapon."

"Roger, roger." Came a droid voice.

"What can't be construed as a weapon? Questioned the second.

"Clothing." She answered them, whipping around so fast both droids stepped backward, one droid teetered before catching itself on a counter. "And have him escorted at all times."

"Roger, roger."

"Roger, roger." Repeated the other.

Hevy saw the soft lights of the bacta tank flicker on and it caught his breath to know he wasn't blind. Why they hadn't they – then he realized - droids didn't need light. He glanced down the corridor the lean, tall woman had taken. Asajj Ventress – he had recognized that voice even before the figure from holovids of CIS commanders. He sighed to himself. Maybe she could see in the dark. Echo would have known – always reading the manuals. Maybe seeing in the dark was one of the Jedi secrets.

Vague figures moved outside the tank, lit by the dim lights. He squinted to bring them into focus. Two gold toned B1 battle droids were watching the liquid flow from the tank, one was swaying its head back and forth, as though listening to a song. Neither had a blaster.

The burbling fluid drained and Hevy's fingers went to his mouth, but they were too weak to grip the breather. "How long was I in?" he asked himself softly, but one of the droids answered for him as it pulled the mechanism off his head. Hevy winced at the sting. His body felt muffled as though it had forgotten it was attached to a brain but the pain receptors remembered their function.

"Two months, Republic scum."

"Roger, roger." Affirmed the other, though Hevy couldn't tell if he was agreeing with the two months or the Republic scum part. He tried to ball one hand into a tight fist, loosely curled fingers was all he got.

"Why that long?" he asked, fully confused. Bacta tank treatment was usually for a week. Or less. He felt dismally weak and needed the robotic hands to keep him from collapsing. His legs, too, seemed to have forgotten their purpose.

"Quiet, scum."

"Hey, he asked me." Said the second droid.

"No, he didn't," replied the first. It turned toward Hevy. "Because we forgot you were here?" It was definitely a question and Hevy noted that. Then, as an afterthought. "Republic scum."

Hevy wondered what circumstances had put him here on a CIS ship with Asajj Ventress. He spoke again, almost in his normal tone, his lung quickly remembering the purpose of air, though he had the feeling they might forget if he didn't concentrate on breathing. Information was its own kind of weapon. "What happened?"

"You were found on Rishi Outpost after the attack on …"

"Don't tell him that. That's divulging secrets to an enemy agent." Argued the second droid.

His heart in his throat, had they attacked Kamino? He'd sacrificed himself for nothing? He pushed the thought aside. Soldiers followed orders, not judge the effects.

"Glorious Separatists forces were beaten back by the Republic scum clones and Jedi."

"It was General Grievous's fault. He retreated."

"No, it wasn't," argue the other. "It was a strategic withdrawal."

The first one turned back to ho, as it tried to fold the front of his body shirt onto his arms. "That goes over the head." Hevy mumbled and regretted it almost immediately as the droid attempted to pull it over his head, chest panel first. It smelt of smoke and burn and the slight sting of tibanna. His own bodysuit then, and not cleaned.

"Leave it. I'll do it." He told the droid.

"I think that would be a good." it replied. "Republic scum."

"We aren't used to clothing humans." The other said, then thought a moment. "Republic dog."

"Ventress?" he asked, wondering if Republic dog was a step up from Republic scum. Breathing was starting to feel almost normal. He picked up the shirt. Only because it was a soft material that caught on his fingers was he able to keep it in his hands, his fingers still rebelling against his brain.

The one droid waved it's arms, crossing them in front of its body. "Strictly forbidden."

The other leaned to whisper into Hevy's ear but didn't adjust its volume and Hevy grimaced. "Some kind of nudity taboo, I guess." It leaned back and reflected on Hevy. "You aren't too bad for a Republic scum."

Hevy signed as it took all his strength to pull the bodysuit shirt over his head. He didn't have the strength to straighten it on his frame and was glad the material was stretchy. As it was, the top was loose and he knew he'd lost body weight and muscle mass. He looked at the droid. Back to Republic scum. "Why's that?"

"You don't have a blaster." Stated the other. They both nodded.

They were better with the bottom half of his bodysuit which was a relief since Hevy was sure he couldn't have managed by himself. He saw his armor on a short counter and he reflected on the black bubbling racing down the back and reaching around some of the plates. He hugged his elbows, touched his shoulders – the joints in his armor – and was thankful the bodysuit hadn't melted. A slight grin reached his face – his 'shiny' now had battle scars he'd be proud to wear. He reached for his helmet, shocked at the damage the outer layer had taken.

"Hey, you can't have that." The droid moved between Hevy and the counter.

"It's part of my clothing." He told it.

"Ha ha, Republic dog."

"Good joke," said the other. "Republic scum."

It had been worth a try. Anything was worth a try.

He remembered the child, that tone of innocent curiosity.

"Who is the child?" he asked, remember that soft voice. In the dimness lit only by the lights of the bacta tank he could see the two droids look at each other.

"What child?" asked one.

The other droid spoke at the same time. "There is no child."

Republic scum." They said together.

* * *

I can't believe I lost an argument with a fiction character – and an animated one at that! This was originally to be focused on Captain Rex – well, that ain't gonna happen anymore. Sorry to all the Rex fans. Hevy simply snorted and rolled his eyes with a murmured, "They'd rather hear my story."

All constructive criticism welcome by the writer. Hevy would prefer simple accolades.


	4. Chapter 4

Here is the next installment of "What Happened After Rishi" – I really have to come up with more exciting titles – and I hope you enjoy it. Come back next Friday when Hevy and Asajj actually meet.

Hevy simply waved, he's a bit distracted because he is finally going to meet a girl – like, face to face. Hey, so what she's a CIS commander, dark acolyte of the Force and all-round bad person. He thanks TheRedFredDeadDude for noticing that Rex lost the argument.

Critics warmly welcome.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Asajj Ventress breathed in deeply, paused, then slowly exhaled – releasing her rage and anger with the breath. She had failed. Again. Unlike Grievous she did not blame others, did not lash out. This had been her own fault. She had not been strong enough to prevail against the two Jedi.

Again her master, Count Dooku would give her that sorrowful look, as though it was only this single failure which stood in her way as his padawan. It was an act, of course. Ventress knew that, knew that he balanced her with Grievous, that he would give nothing without his own master's approbation and approval.

The candle in front of her flickered at her anger. Her attention focused on the candle seeing its destructive beauty, the fire that burned within all fire and she calmed. The flame lowered, relax. A small droplet of wax teetered on the edge then slide down the side to begin a small pool of wax.

This clone in her ship would be a welcome respite from the Count's sorrowful anger or Grievous' uncontrolled obsession of wanton destruction. She acknowledged that fact to herself. It was uncomfortable to know she was sometimes lonely but the truth had a certain clean clarity; a bright edge that cut away the dross of confusion and self-delusion.

She breathed, reached out her focus to the clone even now being released from the bacta tank. Cold exhaustion enveloped her to her very core, the numbness of a body slowly shutting down for death. She touched him. There was some minor kidney damage, easily correctable – so she did so. No other damage. No permanent damage. He wouldn't be hungry - those urges had passed weeks ago. Lightly she stroked his circulation system toward these centers. An appetite would make it easier for him to accept food, easier for his body to cope with something it had almost forgotten, less wary of her. Gently she urged sluggish blood in its pathways of his circulation. She caught debilitating cramps forming in his extremities and pushed blood there also, soothing them away, warming them, balancing potassium and sodium within his cells until she was satisfied that she had done what she could to assist in his re-awakening.

Not to be kind, she told herself, merely expedient.

She exhaled, checked her own body and stretched her arms up then out – feeling the Force, feeling her heart beat – bringing her arms down to her lap. She returned her attention to the clone. He'd been burned. The back of his entire body had blistered red and then blackened; from just under the back rim of his helmet to his toes, but burnt skin was still skin and the bacta tank had taken care of that. She probed deeper sensing the body memory of blaster wounds in shoulder, back and leg. Minor, compare to the burn. Only his helmet had saved his head, his face. Falling forward had saved his lungs and that, in extension, had saved his life.

Gently now, gently she touched on his memory. Immediately his mind shielded itself, not as a Force sensitive but as any human mind would instinctively close at a foreign touch. But before it closed, she caught a glimpse – caught enough.

Images of a failed detonator, of plunk droids, of commando droids, of an outpost interior. Voices. "You'll call me Captain or sir." "Officers coming for inspection". Sounds – the explosion and accompanying feel of blood in his ears, blue light flaring into red then giving way to blackness as his helmet compensated or the macula of his retinas burned, blistering, cracking to blindness. Then silence broken by isolated sobs. Heat giving way to coolness then to cold. A small weak moan. Then nothing.

It had been easy to piece together what had happened. Between the droids gathering useable parts on the Rishi moon and Grievous' anger at the destruction of the outpost, a child would have known what happened. The Republic fleet had moved to face Grievous near Rishi and she had to attacked Kamino swiftly as a diversionary tactic to escape. Quickly the fleet moved toward Kamino to protect it. So no one was at Rishi when she arrived there hours after the explosion. It was a good plan and she knew they would put it into effect again.

She slowly wove the Force away from him into herself.

Why keep him? She smiled. Because of the dream that wasn't a dream.

The threads of the Force made up the fabric of this dream and she had meditated often since she had it. Sometimes the images became sharper, clearer as she tried to trace the individualities – of an event or a person; sometimes she received only an impression or a whisper in her mind as she probed further. The first time she had the dream she had woken from sleep with the sound of blasters still reverberating in her mind. The predominately white armor of the clones slashed with battalion colors still flashed before her eyes. The bitter taste of dirt, dust and mud from a hundred different planets coated the roof of her mouth. Her fingers shook from perceptions from the Force and from her own excitement. The GAR was killing the Jedi.

She had meditated long afterward. The Force granted few visions of the future but this had been one. She knew it. She frowned. When Ky had trained her the Force had seemed clearer – purer like a mountain river; now it was like a murky, muddy pond.

Asajj touched the clone. He was sitting as the droids dressed him. Her mind turned to other matters.

The was another one – Count Dooku's master. Hidden from her view, undoubtedly from the Jedi Council as well. She had seen his hologram face cloaked, had felt his touch occasionally when his attention was on her. The first time he had looked at her, she had hoped it would be to make her his padawan. His laughter at her insolence desire still made her burn when she thought of it. He was power and she could and did feel his dissatisfaction with Count Dooku. So she waited.

She wasn't sure if he – the touch strongly suggested both male and human – had instigated the dream or was even aware of it. She didn't try to hide it but tucked it in her mind of barely-remembered things. Unimportant things. She was playing dangerous games.

Her mind returned to the clone. He was young, of course, knowledgeable in many things, experienced in few. He was proud of his strength. He worked hard to develop muscle to his genetic potential – more so than most clones – he was dedicated to lifting the weights, practicing with the heavier weapons in the armory, pursuing punishing games. He was bodyproud as were all the clones – but more so than most.

Such an arrogant, brash, young clone.

Softly she extinguished the candle and rose to her feet. She draped a long robe around herself. It was night on Rattatak and, by extension, her ship.

She had a guest to entertain. It would be rude of her to make him wait.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Ventress watched him as he walked into the makeshift mess, the droid an obedient escort. He wasn't steady on his feet, two months in a bacta tank with no nourishment would do that, but the weakness would wear off quickly. He was gaunt for a clone but there was reason enough for that. No one should have survived two months in a bacta tank – it was for healing, not stasis. But he'd been tough, resilient as were all clones. Dark hair, untrimmed after two months was shaggy on his head and a dark beard on his face shadowed his features. She touched him again with the Force to confirm her earlier impressions and received that immense rush of exhaustion. She probed a little deeper.

Yes, he was very different from the other one. Younger, brasher, ready to take on the world, trusting in his own strength. And yet... She sensed a pained weakness that was only partially the remnants of his wounds. He had taken on the world and lost. He had been scared beyond bravado and he had given himself for his brothers. Was there a weakness here she could exploit? She touched a bit deeper. No, not here. He had been tempered, not broken, by the fires of Rishi.

The other one had known the Jedi as corrupt order, had already come to the conclusion the Jedi were wicked and selfish masters on his own. He had not sought out Ventress, but had agreed when she had sensed his hatred and approached him with plans. This one … wouldn't.

"You are slaves to the Jedi, you know." She purred huskily. Daintily she picked through a small bowl of berries for the most perfect one.

He stared at the table where there was fresh fruit, strips of steak and other delicacies. "Right now I'm a slave to my hunger." She hid her small smile. He was young and his wants and needs were young.

"Will you tell me what I want to know?" A general question but she watched his body, seeing what it would tell her.

He sighed heavily and sat, just as heavily, on the chair, so obviously proud to have made it down the hall on his own. He didn't reach for anything. "No." He stared into her eyes, his dark brows furrowed, his arms folded over themselves on the table as he leaned forward. Confrontation.

"I could torture you." Using the Force, she pushed a fist size melon in his direction. He flinched. Fear.

"Won't work." The melon sat untouched in front of him and he brushed his forehead with two hard fingers. "Programming and such. We're hard to interrogate." He looked at her blue eyes. "I've told you too much already. I think I'll just go back to CT-26-6958." He slumped backwards and crossed his arms over his chest for a moment but was too weak to hold the defiant posture. His arms slid into his lap. For a moment, he closed his eyes. Tired. She read nothing beyond fatigue.

"With the Force, there are ways." She tucked a berry into her lips as he opened his eyes. For a moment he seemed mesmerized by her movement. _How odd_. She thought, and then continued. "Hard doesn't mean impossible."

"I don't want to find out." He stared at the melon in front of him. Truth, as plain as possible.

"Wise of you. Your brother was voluntarily more forthcoming. Older. Wiser." She picked up another berry. "More experienced." She smiled. That could mean so many things. He watched her fingers, but looked down at the melon in front of him as she put this berry into her lips and bit into with sharp white teeth. "He approached me." Not quite a lie – he would have approached her, if she hadn't found him first.

His brows knotted. "My brother was a traitor." She could see that had hurt – and he knew of a brother's treason only through some paper report or unconfirmed rumor, only as the barest fact. She wondered if that bit of treason had hurt all of the clones so much. How it might have affected the traitors nearest brothers, the clone he had worked with on a daily basis. That was something to find out. Already this clone was providing ideas; information.

"Still, you must consider it." Absently, she used The Force to bring the berries closer to her.

"Don't do that." She realized he was referring to her use of the Force, not her threat of torture. "Please." Her eyebrows flared up knowing it wasn't a word he used.

"And if I don't listen to you?" she baited.

"I'll ask harder." He clenched his jaw then dropped his head, ashamed of his weakness, defeat in his posture. She knew he didn't have the strength to ask harder.

Ventress was silent, waiting until he looked up. She did not want to break him – not yet—not like this.

She picked up the small melon with her hand and held it out to him. Hesitantly he reached for it then held it to his face. He closed his eyes and breathed in its fragrance. Pleasure welled up from deep inside him and Ventress found even that reveling in the senses revealing.

"It smells good – ripe. I've tasted one of these." He opened his mouth to say something and then shut it.

She smiled wryly, catching the drift of his thoughts. "I was on Kamino for several weeks. I know that fresh melon is a rarity." She paused and leaned back in her seat, "I was not expecting a guest. These are my own favorites." She gestured lightly, her elegant fingers taking in the table. "You must eat and field rations are not appropriate after a stint in the bacta tank. Remember to begin lightly, but this will be available to you at any time."

_She had done this for him?_ She saw that her action had surprised him. He couldn't remember when anyone had done something differently for his benefit alone. _So very interesting_, she thought. She rose and started to leave.

"Thank you." He spoke sincerely. It was a soft and simple.

So long since anyone had expressed any appreciation to her.

* * *

So the dance between Ventress and Hevy begins. Hevy says he doesn't know how to dance, but he has a twinkle in his eye and I suspect he'll be very good at it. Expect an update in 2 weeks. Review are wonderful and both Hevy and I enjoy them. We both hope you're enjoying the story.

SHAMELESS PLUG – Please read my other stories.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Hevy grunted as he pushed against the floor with his arms, then lowered himself, tucked his head and rolled out of the inverted push up. He'd learned the first time he tried this in the cell that he couldn't stretch his full length without hitting the cot and so curled his legs under him to end in a cross-legged sitting position in front of his bunk. He took several deep breathes, in the noise, out the mouth, as he sat, thinking.

"Hey, One," he called, and the droid appeared. It's real 'name', if one could call it that, was GN461. The other was IT479, but Hevy called it Two. Hevy smirked. He had pretended that he was just a poor dumb clone who could only count to two. He must have convinced them. They'd tried to teach him to count to three.

_One was diligent in its efforts, "One is one. Then comes two, that's two ones. Next comes three, it's one and one and one."_

_Hevy held up four fingers. The droid gently poked one of them down. "You've almost got it Republic Scum."_

_Two shook his head. "No wonder you clones never give up."_

_Hevy'd looked at him in pretended innocence. "Of course. It's always an even battle. Two against two."_

"Are you hungry again, Republic Dog?" called One with a plaintive whine.

"Yeah. Get your blaster for escort duty. I'm really hungry after my workout."

He stood, stretched out his arms, and brushed walls on both sides of the small cell by merely leaning each way. It was as much a workout as he could get in the small room. Hevy never thought he'd want to go for one of the 25 click training runs, but he longed to be able to stretch out his legs and simply go.

According to ship's light it was morning. According to his internal clock, which he suspected was badly off time, it was closer to early evening. Her ship ran on a different schedule than Kamino or Republic.

"And I feel like a walk today." Hevy pulled on his shirt. It was getting threadbare from all it had gone through.

"Oh, no." replied the droid as it released the doorway. Taking a walk required both droids and a lot of keeping him away from certain areas. Humans seemed pathetically stupid, unable to remember that they'd told him yesterday he couldn't go in there. Maybe it was just clones that stupid.

"Where's Two?"

One tilted his head. "The mistress said to tell you he's visiting his mother."

Hevy smiled. "There's nothing like filial obedience in a droid."

So, she was paying attention. The droids were reporting his actions to her, though he made sure they didn't have much to report. She must be bored of their reporting his daily consumption of her foodstuffs and his exercise. He'd known she would keep track of her prisoner. He would. But he had hoped she'd be sloppy.

One was quieter than usual, possibly confused by family relationship of human species, as they walked to the galley and it took its position by the door.

"Come on in One." Hevy invited. "I'll fix you a nice ... well, whatever."

"Oh, no," said One. "The mistress said that the next droid to walk into the galley had better be prepared to dine on droid poppers."

"She didn't say that." Hevy looked at One with curiosity. He'd used that phrase two days ago.

"Not exactly, but that's what she meant."

"What did she say?"

"That she'd invite us to her workout."

Hevy nodded. That did sound more like her. One stayed by the entryway.

Hevy was pulling out some nuna eggs when he heard the whispery sound of footsteps. It was her and Hevy wanted conversation. Hopefully it would lead to information.

He grabbed a couple of extra eggs, the pan from the wall and utensils. Hevy didn't really like cooking, but he did like eating good food and, living amongst his brothers, that meant cooking. She was silent as he cooked the eggs, pulled out juice and poured her some in one of the glasses from the upper cabinet. She ate silently, watching him as he moved around the galley, sat across from her eating his own breakfast, then picked up and put the dirty dishes in the cleaner.

He sat down and watched her, waiting for her to initiate the conversation. He decided that he liked the color of her eyes. They were so different from the brown eyes of his brothers that had surrounded him for his entire life.

"What do you want, CT-26-6958?"

"How blunt," he remarked. "No introduction to the subject? No 'good morning prisoner, we aren't going to torture you today'?" He leaned back in a seemingly relaxed position.

She gave a tight, curl of her lip.

"Good morning, prisoner. I haven't decided if I'm going to torture you today or not. We really should move you out of the tool closet; I have wrenches, pliers and droid parts crowding the hallway. Breakfast was surprisingly good." A fleeting smile crossed his face and she reacted to that honest reaction. "Thank you. And what do you want?"

"Freedom?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"No."

He appeared to give it thought, gave her a cocky half grin. "My armor, a couple of blasters and two clicks head start?" He leaned back, his arm reaching up and playing with the texture of the wall behind him.

"Out here, that would be parsecs head start and you'd have to ask for a flyer as well."

"If you're offering…" He leaned on the table, an upturned palm in the air.

"But, no." She could tell he was in a fairly good mood, optimistic about something but nothing tangible. Her mouth quirked, it was only the optimism of youth, health and a good night's sleep.

"You have so much I want, that I can keep this up all day, and I'm sure that you have evil plans to conceive and treachery to perpetrate somewhere." He looked her in the eyes and gave her a grin. "You must be a very busy Seppie."

"Very true, CT-26-6958. War doesn't wage itself." She purred in that whispery harsh voice of hers. "I propose a trade." His eyes narrowed and he considered.

"What are you offering?"

"I work out on the hanger deck. There is plenty of room, even some equipment. You'd still be escorted, of course but you can have access to it."

Hevy considered. "I don't think so. You'd want me to promise to try not to escape or some piece of information that could be used against my brothers."

"That is a quandary." She considered, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Please stand."

Slowly, he did. He was wearing his bodysuit as usual. Although he had cleaned it, kept it as clean as he could, there was still the faint scent of tibanna in the fibers.

"You're filling out. Gaining muscle tone." She nodded. "I suspect you'll be trying to escape soon."

She was right but Hevy said nothing.

"Breakfast each morning and your name?" she proposed. "As easily as CT-26-6958 flows across the tongue I have a feeling that is not what you call yourself."

He considered it and nodded. "Hevy. You can call me Hevy."

She smiled, stood and turned.

"And you?" His voice came.

"You seem to know who I am."

"I think I'll call you Asajj." She turned, and saw the small smile of his lips. The rest of his face was bland. "It's a beautiful name."

She left the small galley without saying a word, her eyes blazing silver.

Hevy had the oddest feeling that he had won this encounter.

* * *

As usual, let me know what you think.

Expect an update in about 2 weeks (12/03/2010)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hevy was in the hanger deck she often used for a gym and she went. This was where she wanted to confront him. On her ship, outside of the small sanctuary of a cell she permitted him, this would be where he felt most comfortable. It would be a place where his body would not try to lie to her.

He was doing katas, those beautiful, deadly dances against imaginary opponents.

Hevy had spent all of his time between the galley and her makeshift gym and had gained back much of his muscle, sharp delineations over his body showed the muscles and sinew under his smooth skin. He had cut his hair short, shaved the beard. There were tattoos on each side of lower cheeks that curled to the back of his neck. His shirt was off and she could see they continued down, tracing the hollows on either side of his backbone.

She recognized the kata and waited. He was coming to one of the more difficult moves. He performed it beautifully, perfectly – a leap, a kick, the opposite arm coming around as momentum turned his body. His fingers curled open to complete the move, letting his muscles take the landing. He was beautifully balanced and his moves had a graceful strength that she appreciated.

She unfastened her kama and let it fall to the floor then stepped beside him, matching him move for move.

"Do you know the kai-echan kata?" she asked, breathing deeply as they finished.

He paused, then nodded. His breathing told her he was warmed up and wanted more work. His hesitation told her he was cautious, thinking this some kind of trap. She smiled to herself. He had good instincts.

"Not well, though. You'll have to cue me in on some of the moves."

She moved to face him. "It is much like the kata you just did, some minor changes of punches for kicks and facing or backed with your opponent/partner instead of alone." He nodded.

He was good and followed her lead. Only once did he falter and she remind of the move. They finished and she turned to him.

This was what she had wanted. Martial arts was echani, echani was communication. Communication was knowing, understanding.

"Another kata? Or would you prefer to spar?

He's mouth curled into a smirk. "Right. Spar Asajj Ventress. Seppie commander." He turned his back to her as he rubbed the sweat from his face. "Use a droid." Her spine stiffened in anger.

"Droids cannot challenge me in practice." She released the anger. There was nothing to gain with it and so much to be gained without.

"I'm not much of a challenge against the Force and your light sabers. Give me my blaster and armor and I'll think about it."

She ignored the challenge. So childish, really. "There is practice without the Force. Without light saber or any other weapons." Softly she stretched the muscles in her back, warming up. His body told her he wanted to spar.

"Nothing except the weapon of the body," she continued. "Echani." She glanced to see if he understood the term and underlying context and realized he understood only its most basic meaning. Echani for him, as so many others, was solely a martial art.

She continued on. "In many ways it is ritualized, some moves required a certain countermove but it is also one of the purest forms of martial arts because the countermoves are usually the most effective response. Echani is mastering movement, understanding your opponent through battle."

His dark eyebrows raised. He had caught, so he thought, the reason she was sparring with him.

"Combat is more than light sabers and the Force. I would use neither the Force nor my light sabers in sparring with you." She smiled slightly. "

"Thanks," he was sarcastic. "You've held back Jedi generals before and now you'll fight me with one hand behind your back. Woohhh, I feel so lucky."

_Childish,_ she thought and anger flared again in her mind. She brushed it back and spoke calmly. "It's hardly as unfair as you make it seem. You have skill, you have practice and you have imagination." She appraised him with her eyes and he flushed at the intensity of that gaze. "And strength. I think I will win first, but will consider you to have won if you can touch me in our first battle."

"I don't think so." Again, his voice was sarcastic, angry; but this time he was looking at her with a knowing look, checking for weakness, how she stood, the length of her reach.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and anger spoke. "Then I will batter you until you come to your senses and fight back or I find the limits of a clone's resilience."

He laughed once, a cruel sound without humor, as he raised his hand in mock surrender. "Ok, I'll fight."

She touched him with the Force to see that this was what he had wanted. He may not know Echani, but at some deep level of being he knew that fighting her would tell him more about her than anything else.

She won their first match and Hevy told himself it was because he was still weak from the bacta tank.

But he knew he lied.

* * *

I hope you're enjoying the story. Reviews always appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8 Breakfast with Asajj

**Chapter 8**

Asajj observed the clone in her galley.

He was scrambling some eggs, sprinkling herbs and chopped meat into it. He didn't have a wide repertoire of recipes but had been right about his cooking. It was good. He was freshly showered, his short hair damp and, surprisingly, no shirt. He was still thin after so long in a bacta tank, his body eating itself to survive, but there was muscle there now and his trousers didn't threaten to fall to his kness. He moved like a warrior, like a sleek animal. He moved like her.

Calling her Asajj had been a stoke of brilliance on his part and she wondered if he knew it. No one had called her that since Ky had died. She had been unbalanced by it, unable to meditate for several days.

He set the plate in front of her along with some cut fruit and raised one eyebrow at her assessment.

"You're going all out this morning." She tilted her head, looking at him with the hint of a smile and her crystal blue eyes gleaming.

"I missed you yesterday when you went to General Grievous' vessel and thought you might be extra hungry." He sat his own plate on the table and slid into the seat.

"I see that One and Two have been gossiping again." She lifted a piece of fruit to her lips and watched him. He always dropped his head when she put fruit in her mouth. She knew why, even if he didn't.

He gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes then dropped his head to take a bite, chewing a mouthful of egg. He swallowed. "Constantly."

They finished breakfast in a companionable silence. An observer would have thought they were the kind of friends that didn't need to speak to enjoy each other's company. Asajj finished eating and sighed, reaching for the glass of juice.

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt this morning?" Her fingers gestured at him.

He shook his head and made a 'come here' motion with his fingers.. "Information."

It was his little game, something to keep what little remained of his pride. For every questions she asked, no matter how trivial, he demanded some piece of information. Usually she gave him only how she felt that day or that the eggs were not nuna but some other species. She knew what he had wanted since he'd gotten out of the tank. His guesses weren't far off and it was difficult to keep it from him. Further it was less important the longer he was there. She nodded. "It has been three months and fourteen days since Rishi Station was destroyed." She added more, a gift. "The attack on Kamino was … delayed."

"To when." He stood, taking his dishes toward the cleaner.

She smiled and shook her head. He always pushed for more. "To later, of course."

He laughed, pleased with the information, pleased he'd been so close. "The shirt tore. Between the explosion and wearing it every day, it just fell apart." He grinned at her with white predator teeth and took her plate. "Unlike me, it only took so much."

Asajj leaned back in her seat, her glass in hand. "I believe I can find you suitable clothing. But I must admit," she took a final sip of the juice. "I find you very physically appealing half dressed."

He blushed, dropped his plate then caught it before it hit the deck.

"Do you find that surprising?" she asked. He'd been genuinely surprised that she found him attractive. Asajj let his emotions flow over her; he was getting so easy to … not read necessarily, but to find. He let her have his emotions, offered them to her, even.

Hevy thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. "Not really. Only that you'd admit it." He thought a second longer. "You're probably saying that to put me off my guard."

"Very true. I don't find you the least bit attractive." He laughed at that, too body-proud to believe it.

She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, fingers interlaced. "What would you say to unnerve me?"

He smiled. "You'll find out – when I want to unnerve you." He took her glass and put them in the cleaner then set it on.

_Hevy looked at her, sitting at the table, relaxed. Not unprepared, no he'd never make that mistake, but simply … relaxed. Hevy smiled as he finished putting the dishes into the cleaner. He enjoyed her company. _

_Was that wrong?_

* * *

I promised to continue Rishi back in December and then, again in May. Finally, returning to it ... sorry for the delays.

Read, review, comment, suggest ...


	9. Chapter 9 Sparring

**Chapter 9 - Sparring**

Information was its own weapon.

Hevy liked the auxillary hangar. There were no flyers here, only a fully outfitted gym. There were benches, hot showers, grav-weights, mats; even a null-ball court with the hand-size ball floating aimlessly within the containment field. The gym was both familiar and luxurious. One and Two waited at the entry. He picked up and tossed a towel to one of the benches. She had found him workout clothes; worn into soft comfort and he wondered briefly who had made them comfortable. He pulled off the shirt and placed it next to the towel.

Asajj was on the mat, warming up with a kata. For a moment he watched. Her movements were smooth, swift and precise; she was a master martial artist. _Today_, he thought to himself. _I'll beat you today_. He had been trained from birth and he was a master warrior.

There wasn't much to do in his cell and he reveled in coming to the gym, reveled in pushing his body as much as he could. He didn't quite revel in losing to her but he did enjoy the challenge she presented. He joined her on the mat, beginning his own warm-up.

"It's a beautiful ship, Asajj. Powerful." Again he saw that tiny shiver, the microscopic flinch, a swift look of pain on her face. He hadn't noticed it at first, but now he saw it whenever he used her name. At first he had simply wanted to call her Asajj because everyone else called her Ventress. Now he called her that because it brought the strange reaction

She glanced at him, acknowledging his statement, then continuted her kata.

"I can feel the vibrations when we go into hyperspace. But it isn't military, not with accomodations like this gym." Hevy ran his fingers over the covering of the mat; organic, soft in texture, durable. Not the artificial covering from Kamino.

"A donation from a weathly patron of the CIS retrofitted for battle." Asajj finished the kata, took a deep breath then began another.

"Asajj, how did I end up on your ship?"

Asajj Ventress shrugged, letting the movement flow down her body. "I was in the other tank after - an encounter." She also knew that information was a weapon. She could give him something here; it would ultimately work in her favor. "Grievous was extremely irate at Rishi's destruction and the delay it caused in the attack on Kamino." She bowed her head and lowered her eyes, looking out from the corner. It was a flirtatious gesture. They wouldn't have taught the clones courting on Kamino and there were essentially no human women to interact with them, yet he was human and the language was instinctive. He'd react, yet not understand. "You don't need to know beyond that."

She saw he was pleased to think that he had forestalled Seperatist plans, then came a sad look as he thought of fallen brothers. He was so simple to read, once she had stopped trying to find deeper currents, more intricate plans. He had several plans for escape, none fully flesh out, all possible until she had taken steps to make them ineffective. Hevy straightened, flex his arms and chest slightly then turned full body and looked at her in mild confusion. Asajj continued speaking, ignoring his reaction.

"The droids simply followed my orders and retrieved all combatants and parts. I did not realize that a clone was there and was not specific enough in my instructions to collect only droid parts. You were retrieved, damaged, but repairable. They put you in the second tank. They are used to my meditating while I am there, so did not add sleeper." She looked at him, muscular, stripped to the waist, barefooted, tattoo circling from his jaw down the back of his neck and snaking down the sides of his backbone. "I didn't realize that the tank was being used until I overheard One and Two discussing you. It was an error."

He nodded then rolled his head from side to back stretching the muscles of his neck. "Then why offer the painkiller?"

"A momentary weakness of mine. I don't hate clones except as an accessory to the Jedi."

"Teth." He replied bluntly, his face hard.

"Conceded." Asajj felt his pain for unknown brothers.

"I heard that an entire company went in and five walked out."

"It was viciously done. I did let six walk out including a captain..." She paused, not knowing how to explain what had happened, not knowing if she should tell him. It was valuable information. She turned toward him, her eyes hard, watching his reaction. "who violated a Force-based order."

Hevy's reponse was barely noticeable. "How many man had you killed? How precise was the order?" He chewed at his lip as he inspected her; he'd given her too much but he wanted her to understand the depth's of the captain's pain. Then he realized that she had given him something as well. "On Kamino, a captain is raised with his company; not given command of a company but raised with them with the expectation they are his."

Asajj nodded. "I knew that but had not considered what it meant." She was quiet for a moment. "But consider," she bent forward, touching her elbows to the floor. "Would the Jedi have sent troops if it hadn't been the child of the Hutt who controls a good portion of the trade routes? Would the Jedi have been interested if it had only been some average child of some average family with no power, no name, no money?"

Hevy thought for a moment. "But that's why you kidnapped the Huttlet. To get that reaction." He stretched. "You precipitated the whole thing because you saw the Huttlet as opportunity instead of a child. The Jedi were thinking of how you saw the Huttlet – what gambit you were trying." He looked at her expressionlessly. "You made the child a weapon. If you had taken some average child from some average family," he paused thinking of a family losing something so valuable. "That child would no longer be so average."

She liked that about him. He had said he'd tried to sleep though most of his later training discussions except heavy weapons drills, but his mind thought like a warrior. It might be raw, unformed and inexperienced, but the foundations were strong and stable. And if that were true for him, then it was true for the others. A moment's plan, more information to be gained; she would have to study battles the clones had fought. How they battled both following the detested Jedi and on their own.

He continued, a little sheepishly. "At least that's what I would have thought."

"It is war." She stood. "There are victims. Troopers and children."

Hevy shook his arms to loosen them. "Nice to know you aren't getting soft in your old age." He retorted. He watched her, calculating possible weakness and admiring her form.

The Echani fought with almost nothing on and under her kama Asajj wore a shirt and some loose pants the same as he, but the clone had sparred in all conditions of weather, terrain, and with and without armor. It was all one to him.

She bristled at his words, though he didn't know why until she muttered softly under her breath, "Old age. Come, youngster, we'll see about this 'old age'." She stood to her full height, barely a finger's width shorter than him and unclipped the long kama from around her hips tossinig it to the bench where he'd left his shirt and towel.

She was whipcord thin, all muscle and sinew except for the curves of her breast and the gentle flare of her hips. Hevy looked away for a second as unknown and unbidden thoughts came to his head. He stood for a second, confused – something in him shouting that this was all wrong – when she whirled and the back of her fist caught him on the cheek.

Now this was familiar and he didn't have to think. He'd sparred with his brothers every day of his known life. He let the power of her blow take him sideways as he dropped the upper part of his body to the floor. His legs came up and he could feel his feet brush against her shoulder as she turned, following the force of her strike. Not enough though, she was fast. He was on his feet again and brought the blade side of his hand towards the junction of neck and shoulder. A devastating blow, but she was a devastating partner. Her right arm crossed in front of her to guide his striking arm around her as she dropped down and tried to sweep his feet off the floor with her leg. He pushed back, kicking her leg away with his stronger one. They'd both be bruised tomorrow.

His other hand, fisted tight, caught her in the back, slightly above the kidney as she spiraled and he heard her grunt of pain and uncontrolled acceleration forward. She adapted the force of the blow and rolled, kicking out and catching him in the leg, just a hair from his groin, then was on her feet again. He hit the floor rolling and came up, weight on his legs and fingers barely touching the floor, facing her.

He moved in fast but she was faster and her right fisted knuckles jabbed him in his side as he came up. That was what he'd been waiting for. Hevy's left arm came down hard, tightening over hers.

"Got'cha" he gasped as his right arm swept around her back then lowered, pinning her other arm to her side. Raw muscular strength was his advantage here – his only advantage, he thought as her head butted him in the nose, breaking it. A black patina flared in his brain but passed quickly and he hadn't let go of her.

Her leg came out, snaked towards his and, for a moment, he evaded the sweep. Only for a moment, then he fell, heavily taking the blow of the floor on his side and swiftly rolled so Asajj was beneath him. She breathed hard with the exertion of trying to free herself from his arms but was unable to do so without referring to the Force and that was not Echani.

She lay there, under his muscular body, struggling until he tightened his grip substantially and her ribs ached. Any more pressure and they'd break. Blood ran from his nose onto her face and neck, warm and slick.

"Strength defeats speed," he said smiling as she ceased struggling, ceased attacking, ceased trying to escape and acknowleded her defeat.

"True enough. But what defeats strength?" She asked in her whisper harsh voice. He held her in his arms.

He looked at her, sudden confusion unfurling in his mind, pain shooting from his nose and, to a lesser extent, his ribs. Strength had always been the clones' forte, his forte. He'd been strong, working on it, he had usually won against his brothers. She felt warm in his arms. Proper. Abruptly, embarrassed for some odd reason, he released her and rolled to sit on the floor.

"Patience. Reach. Mobility. Knowledge. Toughness." He recited and she recognized it as some flash lesson. His hand went to his nose and he winced as he touched it. "Speed. Anything can be the key to victory."

She had risen gracefully from the floor and handed him his towel even as she wiped his blood off of her body with another. "And I have those."

"Only with the force." He muttered behind the towel.

Her rage bubbled to be released, but she held it back. "That was not Force enhanced. That was practice. Echani."

"Show me," he scoffed, the towel held to his nose.

Her rage boiled over. Who was this made-man to laugh at her? She grabbed her sabers, comfortable in her calloused palms and slowly crossed them in front of herself as she faced him.

Hevy paled as she brought her face and those blades close to him. He'd never heard anyone say you could smell the blades! He'd brought this on himself, but she spoke evenly now, calmly, though rage flamed in her pale eyes.

"This is the first kata of the Niman, a form of Jar Kai, double bladed fighting. _This_ is force enhanced." She stepped back and Hevy could breathe again.

But not for long.

Asajj danced. Hevy's mouth dropped open at the magnificence of it. His eyes could barely see her movements for their swiftness, yet he could see her imaginary opponents by her moves, how she feinted here then countered a strike with both of her blades, turning again to catch the blades of an opponent. The blades dance with her, sizzling the air, sweeping quickly, then slowly.

* * *

He was quiet while they ate. And she asked him why.

"I'd never seen the force in action. Not like that. I'd seen holovids of levitation, heard that a Jedi could get inside your head and could move faster than. .. Been told…" _No, best not mention that_. He broke off. "I didn't believe it. Not really. I thought …," He couldn't find the words.

"Strength in some form was sufficient?" She asked softly, knowing the answer.

"Yes."

"And now you must rethink your view of the world."

He nodded softly. "Yes."

Asajj nodded. He was breaking. As a master crystal cutter, she was breaking him where she wanted.


	10. Glimpses

**Glimpses**

**I**

Hevy sat cross-legged in his cell, thinking; being angry at himself. He enjoyed her company. He gave a small frown. Was that wrong?

**II**

So, what was your childhood like."

"I was never a child," she spat

His brown eyes turned sad and he glanced at the table. "I can understand that."

Her expression changed, becoming softer, more sympathetic. She must have remembered. Clones didn't have a childhood either.

**III**

"Not that door," called Two as Hevy opened one of the prohibited doors.

"It's the mess, isn't it? Two doors down from my cell." He affirmed as his eyes took in the sight of equipment. He closed the door with a frown as One reached out to grab his arm.

"It's not the mess." Hevy put all the disappointment he could muster in his voice though he wanted to dance in joy. He held his hands so he could count for One. "My cell," he touched one of his outspread fingers and folded it into his fist. He held the remained four fingers to One's ocular. "See, two."

One shook his head. "We'll work on math later, republic dog."

Hevy smiled, in an excellent mood. "Roger, roger."

**IV**

Hevy pondered through the night. He had plans but couldn't carry them out because of fear that she knew about them. She was his first encounter with a Force sensitive and he had no idea about her abilities. If should could read his mind, he was dead. He shrugged, he was dead anyway, but he'd like to get some more things done.

He cast his mind over the sparring. She'd been angry at him, not realizing that his words concealed his own inadequacies, his own fears. Emotion, especially her own anger, blinded her to the Force.

Getting her angry that often though would lead her to the truth ... or cause his death, neither of which were in his interest.

Emotions were the key though. It was in his mind before he consciously thought of it.

Lust.

Hevy was surprised, scared even, at how easily he could imagine Asajj in his arms.

**V**

"Where's Asajj?" he asked One casually.

"Speaking with Count Dooku," answered One.

"He's not very happy," chimed in Two.

One looked back at his partner. "He's never happy."

_Gossips_. Hevy decided, free to think. She was busy and Dooku required all her attention. He knew that much.

All B1 battle droids loved gossip. Often all he had to do was get them started and he learned things; not always useful knowledge, but certainly entertaining.

Sometimes they provided useful information. He knew the location of the armory in the ship, where they were headed, a storeroom of unused parts – oh, that had been valuable and he had confirmed it with the trick of only counting to two. He'd been there the last time Asajj was off the ship on some assignment for the CIS. It hadn't been hard, getting out of his closet-turned-cell.

The problem was keeping the droids gossiping on some topic rather than scattered. And not letting them know how terribly interested he was in all they talked about.

"I'm not hungry. I think I'll just take a nap." Hevy yawned widely.

"Ok , republic dog." replied Two.

One walked down the hallway, followed by Two. "We'll collect you later." He raised his three-fingered arm in a sort of optimistic wave. "If you can count to three tomorrow, republic scum, perhaps we can go to four." Hevy heard his words to Two as they turned the corner. "Do you think all humans are so dumb or is it only clones?"

Hevy lay on his side, facing the wall. He pulled the blanket over his shoulder and smiled as he programmed the small transmitter under the cover.

The hardest part was not thinking of plans and what he knew when he was with Asajj.

**VI**

Hevy pulled his punch.

Her favorite forms were the swirling, circular motions of echani. He didn't have any favorite form, basing his usage on efficiency; on whatever worked the best in any given circumstance.

They had been sparring and he had moved from the graceful circling motions of echani into the linear forms of wrruushi with deadly swiftness. Even as he was rotating his trunk, his left arm circling, deflecting her blow, his right hand had not moved into the customary wrist hold that followed in classic echani, but had balled into a fist and shot into her face.

Hevy was angry at himself, suspecting he'd told her much more about clones with that punch than she'd known before; more than he had ever intended letting her know. Not only the fighting skills of the clones but the speed at which they could change, not locked into one form or another even as they fought. The flexibility that could win wars. They had no inhibitions in fighting and would move into street fighting as easily as they used the more classical styles; both on an individual as well as group basis. Fight was both reaction and action. The clones were trained in combat, in war, but fighting was life. Clones had no inhibitions in fighting.

He had pulled back at the last instant; his emotions pride, confusion and then a tiny flame of concern.

Her face had reflected that child-like lost look for only an instant as she felt his emotions. Then she'd known, realized what that strike had told her.

Hevy was angry with himself. He'd also broken her nose.

**VII**

Hevy escaped the next day. They found him in the room with the two bacta tanks, looking over his armor, his helmet in his hands. He was sitting cross-legged on the counter and barely looked up at their intrusion.

He held up his back plate for her inspection and nodded. "With these scars on my armor, I'd be the envy of half the GAR." Then he looked at her, remembered how he envisioned her the night previous. The lust came immediately. "I don't suppose you could let me go back for one day... just to show off my battle scars?" He smiled softly. "I promise I'd return." He would too, if he gave his promise. He imagined running his hands over her slender waist, kissing her mouth, possessing her in the most intimate way. Even though Hevy wasn't sure how that might be, his body knew. He was shocked at the response it provoked in himself. He saw her startled look, for a split instant, lost, like a child . . . he would have missed it if he hadn't been looking for it.

Hevy pushed himself off the table walked to face her and raised his fingers toward her face. His fingers trembled but he would have touched her, would have taken her in his arms.

If she hadn't spun around and left the room, issuing orders to One and Two to return him to the cell.

His knees were shaky and he told himself it was just because he was sure the message had gone through.

He knew he lied to himself. Again. He always knew when he lied to himself.

He wondered if Jedi lied to themselves. He looked down the hall where Asajj had angrily stalked off. Did Sith lie to themselves? Do Force sensitives? Did everyone?

* * *

Echani and Wrruushi are both martial arts from Wookiepedia. Thank you, Wookiepedia.

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	11. Hevy's Message

**Hevy's Message**

It had been a short radio burst. Weak, boosted by being tied with a stronger message; hijacking that transmission. Rex's mouth tightened into a small grin. It had been caught by the array of sensors on the _Resolute_. The primary message had been a hologram of General Grievous ordering a secret listening post on Orto Plutonia in preparation for an attack. Beautifully valuable. They had an unknown friend on the other side.

Kenobi, Skywalker and Yularen were working with the resident slicer on how to get changed signals to the original destination and a return message to relay back to Grevious. They could really wreck some havoc on the CIS.

They hadn't decoded the hijacker message yet. It was too short, in an unknown code, and not considered as urgent as the Grievous message; but Rex had an inspiration. It had been sent to Rishi sector. Sector coordinates never changed, unlike ship coordinates. Once you'd been stationed in a sector, you knew those coordinates for the rest of your life.

"Echo, Fives." He called on the ship's intercom. "Report to captain's quarters. Immediately."

Both men were there, Fives in armor, Echo in hastily pull-on fatigues the shirt inside out; still bleary-eyed with sleep, the back of his hair flattened from sleep.

Rex called the message up from the bridge to his own computer.

"Watch." He told the men as he leaned against his desk, his arms folded over his chest. "It was transmitted to Rishi." They both looked at him then with wary attention in their eyes.

The holo flared into blue, General Grievous' image, his harsh guttural voice with their instructions and occasional bursts of static overlaying the image.

Fives glanced at Rex again, understanding the battle implications of both the maneuvers as well as the fact that they had the message.

Echo watched, his brows drawn in a frown, no longer sleepy eyed. "Play it again," he ordered Rex absently who complied with a raised eyebrow. Echo chewed at his thumbnail as he viewed it again then moved to the captain's seat. Rex's eyebrows rose, but Fives put two fingers on his captain's arm, to halt him with a small nod.

Echo muted the sound then adjusted the holovid. The adjustment didn't give Echo what he wanted and his face twisted in a frown. His fingers stroked the computer controls again. This time the audio was pulled out and separated from the holo. There was still static in the background. Echo made more adjustments and the static became pulsed noise, recognizable as being of sentient origin. Echo had a small smile on his face. "Gotcha, Hevy," he murmured quietly.

The holovid started up again, General Grievous moving in his quick moves, but it was a clone's voice coming from the CIS commander, the words in unison with his movements, the audio code overlaid by the visuals. The hijacker code in parallel with the message; only a fraction's difference in the frequency.

"Ventress Grievous. Attack Kamino. Orto Pluton-ya." A long pause in Grevious' movement. "Ryloth. Juma. More later. If can." They all caught the sorrow in his voice at those last words. Then another, short burst of static, layered inside the coded message. Echo's fingers danced on the keyboard, now knowing what he was looking for.

The static followed an elaborate sweep of Grievous as he turned with a flare of his cape. Hevy's voice, pride evident in every note. "You should see my armor scars."

Fives laughed, his eyes crinkling in humor. "That's Hevy all right."

Echo grinned as well then suddenly realized he was sitting in the captain's seat. Flushed, he quickly stood to attention. Rex grinned at him.

"If you can do that every time you sit there, you can have it." Captain Rex nodded his approval at Echo. Echo ducked his head, but not before both men saw the smile of pride.

Rex took his seat, gestured the men to sit. "Tell me what this message tells you."

Fives was first. "Hevy's alive. He's not dead. He's aboard Grievous' ship, possibly hiding."

"Or Ventress'" added Echo.

"Or another vessel attached to them," said Rex. "But I could tell that for myself – now that its decoded. What does this message tell you that it _doesn't_ tell me."

They thought at that. Echo eyed Rex carefully. "He's scared."

"What makes you say that." Rex asked.

"He always use to ..." Echo paused, then changed his sentence. Hevy was alive. "He says things like 'check out my armor' or 'I've got the big gun' when he's scared. It's probably true that he has great armor scars. But he wouldn't bring it up unless he was scared."

"Why would he be scared?" Rex tilted his head in query. He had his own opinions but these two men knew Hevy. They'd been brothers for years.

Echo looked at him as though he'd gone crazy. "He's a clone in Seppie space. Probably on a Seppie ship. Surrounded by droids."

Fives shook his head. "No, that wouldn't make Hevy scared. He wouldn't even think of it in that way, Echo and you know it." Fives grinned. "That's just a big adventure for Hevy."

Echo nodded in acknowledged agreement. "I have to admit you're right about that."

Fives smiled at Echo, turning it to a wicked grin at Rex. "He's with Ventress."

Rex listened. "What makes you think that?"

"Two things scare Hevy," began Fives and Echo started to nod. "Women and Force users. Like they scare most of us. For the same reasons, because we have no direct experience with them. Ventress is both, Grievous, neither. Echo and I would be nervous or anxious in those conditions. You remember when we first worked with Skywalker? But it settled quick because we had examples. We had you and Coric to show us, the commander to guide us." He frowned and glanced at Echo. "I don't know how to explain the rest."

Echo took over. "Hevy doesn't have any guidance but Hevy was good with that. We follow. Fives and I might one day be good squad leaders with experience. Hevy would make a good one right out of Kamino. He liked - likes being in control, knowing what to do, when to do it. Even when he doesn't _know_, he has good plans, good instincts." Echo bit his lower lip. "Hevy has a plan."

Echo and Fives glanced at each other then turned to their captain. There was sorrow on their faces. "And it isn't escape."

* * *

I'm back at work - *sigh* - so postings will be less frequent. I will try to keep to a once a week schedule.

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	12. Glimpses II

**Glimpses II**

**I**

Asajj sat, cross-legged in mediation.

She did not _like_ this clone.

Asajj told herself this often.

She'd been lonely. She'd been seeking approval in someone's eyes – Dooku never gave it to her. She enjoyed sparring with an imaginative opponent, someone her equal in so many ways. She wanted conversation rather than orders given or orders received. She wished for the flirtation of male and female; might even imagine the warm comfort of skin against skin. She had so many excuses.

But she did _not_ like Hevy.

Sometimes, she wondered why she told herself this so often and so adamantly.

**II**

She had studied the battle records, watching the clones. They were precise; they knew battle and made very few errors in executing their objectives. In retrospect she could see the errors lay most often with the Jedi generals either unused to marshaling forces en mass or too unwieldy with so sharp and exacting a weapon as the clones. She would have liked to discuss battle strategy and tactics with Hevy, but, of course, she couldn't do that.

_Why not?_ asked a portion of her mind.

Asajj found an old dejarik table and introduced him to the moves of the game. She found a deck of cards and they played sabacc. It had been a long time since she had played either game.

His tactics were sound; his strategy changed and evolved, becoming more complex and subtle as they played.

Moreover, he knew what she was seeing in him but this was also a trade of sorts. Absently she wondered who would know more when their own private battle ended. Who would win?

He was just a clone. A trooper of no consequence who should have died on his first assignment.

**III **

Asajj meditated more frequently now. The vision of the clones firing on their Jedi masters was clearer. She could make out details at times, clarity within the confusion. She knew Kenobi didn't die and that brought unexpected relief though she didn't understand why. General Unduli died on Kashyyyk, Secura on Felucia; both killed by clones; the Mirialan who was so proud of her skills died with her light saber still sheathed. Windu, died in the chancellor's office and Count Dooku at the hands of General Skywalker, the Jedi's so-precious 'Chosen One'.

Young Skywalker – surprisingly he died too, at the hands of a Sith in black. That Sith was too broad in the shoulders to be herself; not tall enough to be Dooku and too ... young ... to be Dooku's master. She wondered who was the new choice of Dooku's master. It didn't surprise her that it wasn't she.

Skywalker's pet, she could not see. She hated the little brat, hated that she had gone to the temple. Ky had promised that she would go to the Temple and learn more than what he could teach her, but she had never gone.

Jealousy Asajj acknowledged freely. She knew one day she might be able to let go of the hate.

**IV**

Every time Hevy saw her he smiled; thought not always with his lips.

Asajj had felt that feeling before, but not often.

She'd felt something very similar from Ky Narec as a child when he'd been her master. Sometimes she felt it mixed with bewilderment from the Jedi Obi Wan. She never felt it in Dooku and knew he regarded her as no more than a tool.

In Hevy the emotion was complexity itself and meshed with a host of other feelings that she teased apart – fear, fortitude, regret, determination, lust. Definitely, lust, but overlaid with another, unknown but familiar feeling. Simply a small spark of ... warmth.

The closest feeling she'd felt was recent, and from another clone. The captain on Teth. Captain Rex, she knew now. Asajj had taken the time to find out his name after what had happened. She had his throat in her hand, his life beating beneath her fingertips. She had demanded his capitulation to entrap Skywalker and his brat. The clone had been full of hate and anger at her; at what she had done to _his_ men more than the risk of his personal life. Beneath his despair, had been a feeling much like she felt from Hevy. A feeling like a flaming sun and sublimely luminous. The captain's feelings had been for his men and burned through his rage of what she did to him.

Hevy's feelings were for her.

She snorted disbelief during her meditation. There was no such thing as love.

**V**

Hevy had plans. Asajj could feel the void he cultivated in his mind. Beyond that, she could feel only his lust.

She refused to acknowledge any other feeling; his respect for her fighting skill, his compassion for her childhood, his delight in cooking her breakfast, his pleasure at playing dejarik and sabacc. It was all lust.

It was hard to convince herself of the lie.

**VI**

"What do you know of what happened on Christophsis?" Asajj asked Hevy as they played dejarik.

He shrugged, moving his m'onnok into a forward position to recover from her forked attack leading with the ng'ok and molator. "CIS forces were beaten back."

"What happened to the munitions?" She knew what had happened; but was it common knowledge through the GAR?

"A CIS infiltrator set off explosives at the munitions housing; only the heavy cannons were saved and not even all of those." Hevy smiled at her. "I think I'll win this game."

"I think not." Asajj glanced down at the board and moved her attack. His forces were separated, her fork penetrating through his defenses. "It wasn't an infiltrator. It was a traitor."

Hevy's head jerked up and he glared at her. She gazed back with a flirtatious tilt to her face. "An infiltrator?" She mocked him softly, her voice smooth as a lover's caress. "Into a _clone_ army?",

He stood, towering over her, his face dark with rage. "One," he commanded. "Take me back to my cell." He turned, military precise, and strode from the room.

"Roger, roger, republic dog," came the droid's sing-song voice.

Asajj glanced down at the dejarik board. His separated forces had surrounded her attack, converging on the weakened flanks. It was a winning position.

**VII**

"Where's the prisoner," Asajj asked one of the droids casually, her eyes glittering with anger.

"I don't know." One was not perceptive, even among droids. Asajj growled and One took two steps back.

"We do not know, mistress," provided Two, more than an arm's striking distance away from her, forgetting that distance wasn't a deterrent to the Force user.

"Find him," she snarled and heard their affirmations of 'roger, roger'.

Hevy was taunting her. He couldn't escape her ship but he took great delight in escaping from his holding cell daily. Usually he ended up with the bacta tanks contemplating his armor. Asajj had inspected it the first time he had escaped. Just in case she destroyed the electronics. She thought about destroying his armor, but that would break him too much. She wanted him to remain a weapon; a weapon under her control, a weapon against Dooku.

Dooku thought himself invincible. Asajj knew better. Neither the Sith nor the Jedi were invincible in this battle. Hevy would be her weapon and, through him, she would learn to control the others.

Hevy hadn't escaped the previous day and she had asked him why not.

"Oh, I escaped," he admitted. "But I got bored of the droids not being able to find me." He smiled softly at her and took another step in her direction. Again the flood of his lust rolled over her and that warm feeling in conjunction with it. "I was worried they had stopped looking and I wanted to be here when you got back." He reached to her face with his fingers but she took a step back and whirled away from him. As she had done the first time, as she had done every time he reached out to touch her.

Did he see her fear in that move? Did he notice the tenseness of her shoulders? Did he hear her breathing; sharp, quick and shallow?

Not for what was, but for what might have been. What might yet be?

She knew he did and she hated herself for giving him that much.

* * *

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	13. Sparring All Out

**Sparring All Out**

Asajj caught him in the solar plexus with the heel of her foot – and he grunted. It could have been a killing blow and it usually put a man down. But even as Hevy fell to the ground, he caught hold of her ankle, twisted it as he curled in pain, and pulled her to the floor with him. They both landed, he on top of her, as best they could, but neither landed well. Hevy lay curled on his side, groaning and gasping for air his arms clenching his chest while Asajj simply lay on her back under his muscular body watching non-existent stars circle the ceiling. Shortly their breathing evened.

"Want to get up," asked Hevy with a moan.

"No." Asajj answered. Simple and direct. As plainly honest as she could be.

"Good." He replied

"Why," breathed Asajj with a soft groan.

"Cause I'd have to prove myself a real tough clone and get up too." He moaned again, rolled to one side to free her, his arms still clasped to his chest, and closed his eyes. _Just for a moment_, he thought, _just for a few moments_.

He woke up still on the floor of the hangar deck they practiced on and cold with an ache deep in his chest that pounded with every heartbeat. Asajj was near him. She must also have been cold because she was curled on her side. Her ankle was blue and swollen. Hevy reached behind him with a soft groan, to where she had dropped her long kama. It flowed with the heaviness and luxury of something warm and when he touched it, it was. He moved the short distance to where she was and pulled the kama over both of them. His feet stuck out but it was enough.

Escape crossed his mind for a moment, but he was too sore to care… and the droids were out there and they were in space and he couldn't operate a flyer and _kriff_ with the whole idea. Sleep came again.

When he woke a second time, Asajj was in his arms, the warmth of his body curled around her. He simply looked at her. She had skin that was pale dusky ivory, finer than anything he had ever seen, delicate eyelashes, her normally angry-sharp features softened in sleep.

Slowly he reached a finger out and touched, barely touched her face. She lay with her head on his arm and he reached down his face to …. He didn't know, but he felt her breath on his lips and it tingled. She smiled in her sleep and murmured a word, a name "Ky".

Disappointed, Hevy drew back his face. But she woke up, those delicate eyelashes rising like the clouds over the Kamino sea on a clearing day.

_He is close enough to kiss,_ she thought, without thinking of who he was, what he was.

Without thinking of who she was, what she was, she brought her hand up to his face and placed it on his cheek. Soft fingers moved, tracking the firmness of his jaw line, the line of his tattoos and the gentle bow of his wide mouth. He smiled.

"That's ticklish."

"Pleasantly?" Her voice was a soft whisper.

Hevy nodded, a little flushed. He curled the arm under her shoulders slowly, bringing her closer while his other arm slid around her waist pulling her toward him – again slowly, watching her with questioning eyes, waiting for her reaction.

Hevy wondered where all the power and strength came from, she was so slender. He could span her waist with his hands. He bit at his lip in indecision, then gently brought his lips to hers, the softest of touches, inhaling her breathing, tasting her skin, stroking her face with his.

"No." she said.

He froze, his arms slacking their hold and his face darkening in anger or embarrassment or some combination of both.

She smiled and curled her arms around his neck to draw him back in to her again. She brought one palm around to his soft, ticklish lips, and then stroked his cheek gently. "Yes to kisses." She kissed him – his eyes closed. "Yes to the breathing" and she softly breathed on his lips – deliriously pleasurable.

"No just to this. She stroked the stubble of his face with delicate fingertips and smiled. "They scratch." He rubbed his cheek, then touched the soft skin of her cheek with his thumb and nodded, once, slowly. His eyes wide, he brought his lips down again and she tilted her face up to meet him. He paused with barely a breath between them.

She felt the swift change of emotion; anger rage, lust, want, hate, fear. His feelings ripped inside out.

He didn't kiss her, but pinned her down, dropping his forehead on her chin, his breathing ragged between his teeth.

"What have you done to me?" he whispered, his pupils pinpoints in his anger. He raised his head with hatred in his eyes.

She didn't move under him, as momentarily confused emotions eddied around him. His thumbs came to rest on the carotid arteries in either side of her slender neck and he could feel her life beating, a beat that was matched by the rapid river of his own blood. She felt him contemplate killing her. It shocked her to realize that he might be able to do so before she could react. In a smooth move he came to his feet and turned from her.

"What have you done to me?" he asked again, pain and rage in his voice. Before she could speak, to answer or deny he was out of the hangar dock, followed by his ubiquitous escorts. The cloak kept his warmth for a long time as she pondered what had happened.

* * *

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	14. Courtship Behavior

**Courtship Behavior**

Hevy seethed with anger and lust and other emotions that he didn't quite have a focus on, that he couldn't name, that he'd never felt before. Both Two and One were escorting.

"Say," said One. "Wasn't that courtship behavior?"

Hevy growled, inarticulate.

"You make an engaging couple." commented Two.

"Much better than General Grievous," Commented One. "He destroys droids like us."

"For fun," put in Two. "Besides, they don't like each other."

"Sure they do," argued One, who then looked at Hevy. "But I think she likes you more."

Hevy whirled around bringing both droids up short. "One more word," his finger in One's faceplate, "out of either of you and I will continue my courtship behavior by bringing her gifts." He moved his finger to Two. "Your heads."

They paused and looked at each other.

"Download file courtship." They said in unison. There was a moment's pause as the information was sent from the ship's computer to the individual droids. They continued to lead him to his cell but were quiet as the files were received and opened. They pushed him in his small room and set the force locks.

"Oh-ohh," said One as he took a step back. "Gifts are appreciated." It quoted from some file. "The more dangerous in the procurement, the more valued…" It took a step back clutching the blaster a little closer.

"Ewww," said Two, obviously at a different point in the file download, as it tried to cover its optics with its droid fingers. "That is just so wrong."

Hevy shook with anger as he threw himself onto the small cot and faced the wall. Slowly he clenched his hands into hard fists. _Her life had been at his fingertips!_ Softly he pressed his fists against the wall and bowed his head to touch the cold metal of the ship's wall. _What has she done to me?_ His soul cried out in anger.

He took a deep breath and answered himself. She hadn't done anything beyond be herself, he knew that. He'd been the cause of everything that had happened; he'd done it and deep in his heart he knew the truth of the matter. He had inculcated lust in himself to serve his purpose. He'd been young though he knew that was a sore excuse.

Lust served its own purpose and opened the opportunity for love.

Hevy bowed his head into his fists as they slowly unclenched and covered his face with his fingers. Low under his breath he began calling himself a litany of every Mando's curse he knew. _Fierfik, kriffing, mirosik_…

He loved her.

* * *

Another short chapter tomorrow... then it's back to Scars for Ordo Plutonia.

Enjoy the story, review and comment. i love those.


	15. Breakfast

**Breakfast**

**I**

The next morning he was making breakfast. Hevy watched her carefully as she came into the galley. He was wary, his emotions outwardly checked but seething inside. His body told her nothing but angry refusal. Still she noted that he had carefully removed the stubble from his chin, cheek and throat and that told her more. Curiously, she wondered how far down Hevy had shaved.

That he was a clone had no relevancy for her except in as much as it made him a soldier for the Republic. She pushed aside a thought that never made it to mental vocalization. _No weakness_, she chided herself, _I want him broken to my will_.

"Shall we spar again today?" She asked as she limped to pick up the cups and pour them both some caf. Hevy moved aside to give her room; to give her more room than usual. He paused the barest moment before going to the table, both plates in hand. He sat and stared at the food in his plate.

He put his hand to his chest and winced. "I'm not sure I could manage another day like that."

She caught hidden undertones in his words. Regrets. Desires. Something more. He grinned at her, not in humor, his teeth bared like a predator, his eyes holding only challenge. "But I'm a tough clone."

Oh, she caught that challenge. Grievous or Dooku would beat the challenge out of him; they would destroy him for his insolence.

She ignored it. She wanted a tool, not a broken man.

She nodded and made her way to the table. "It was a difficult day." She stood next to him, her hand on his shoulder, and he gazed upward at her, for a moment like a dying man seeing salvation. Then his face hardened into something she'd seen every time she'd seen a clone on the battlefield without a helmet.

Asajj reached out and touched his lips softly with her fingers. He gasped softly but didn't move. His expression changed again. It was no longer that battle mask of a clone, simply Hevy's expressions. Her fingers caressed his cheeks. He closed his eyes but didn't move.

"But I very much liked parts of it." she whispered softly. He shivered, but still, he didn't move. She bent and touched her lips to his. His fingers crept up to stroke her throat softly and then both his hands cupped her face, kissing her back.

He was young, eager, inexperienced but he kissed her with a possessive fierceness that delighted her.

No. They wouldn't spar today.

* * *

**II**

His fingers trembled and Hevy tried to still them, but couldn't. He drew them over Asajj's lips – she had done the same to him and he found it exciting. Her lips were soft against his fingertips. She half-opened her lips at his touch as she watched him. He didn't like her watching him like that. Was she judging or conniving? So he cupped her face in his hands, sliding his fingers gently toward then over her eyes and she lazily closed them.

He ran his face over hers – he knew some animals did so to mark their mates. He hadn't thought it a human behavior nor did he think of her as his mate – only…

_Only what?_ He asked himself

Some part of his mind rejoiced in kissing a woman; in touching her, in being with her intimately, but Hevy knew this wasn't love. This was war in some way. This was some battle they hadn't prepared him for in Kamino. He didn't know the weapons, the battle plan, overall strategy or tactics of this battle.

Hevy knew his strength wouldn't help him here, he had no experience – so that was no good either. He had only instinct and intelligence.

He had lain in his bunk countless nights, dreaming of touching a woman, of pleasuring her and pleasing himself. He had dreamed of countless women; bettydroids dreamed as flesh or pictures he'd seen, who had fallen at his feet in a swoon as he had caught them, even while defeating the evil Seppie forces. In his dreams his reward would be a kiss and, most often, more.

This was a live woman, with her own wants, needs, and agenda matching the women in the dreams in no way.

Asajj did not love him; he knew that.

His blood sang, but his mind calculated and considered. Hevy remembered holovids he'd seen, trooper gossip he'd heard, his own inarticulate wants.

He wondered what was next – between kisses and… what followed.

She moved her face over his and breathed softly into his ear. It was like a hot current and Hevy froze as he drew in a breath and pressed his head against her. She exhaled again, a warm current that melded with his blood. He hadn't realized it felt like that! He'd never realized the ear was connected to his groin, but apparently it was - in a direct line.

His hand slid down her throat and touched her vein where he felt her blood rushing; where his fingers yesterday had rested against her life.

Hevy smiled. _That_ was not a normal heartbeat. His smiled widened into a cocky grin.

Asajj saw his grin and raised an eyebrow – a challenge.

Nipples, Hevy decided, were also directly attached to the groin.

None of this was real he promised himself, but his body disagreed feeling the rightness of her.

Powerless beyond all imagining, he lay skin to skin with her. Their breathing came in ragged spurts. But her arms were around him, her lips on his ear, soft kisses. Her fingers entwined in his hair.

His arms held her close to him, closer even than his armor had ever been. Closer than the body glove beneath his armor. She was as close and comforting as the water that washed him after battle.

He hated her.

Hevy looked at Asajj with bewildered eyes. _Could you hate someone you loved?_

* * *

A day late but enjoy.


	16. Sleep

**Sleep**

Hevy lay back, physically sated for the moment, his amber-brown eyes watching her. Neither his lips nor his eyes smiled at her. Asajj couldn't identify all the emotions which circled around him, although rage was a component she recognized, and it appeared to be directed at himself. Despair was another emotion she recognized, matching a distant memory of her own when Ky had died, when her future shattered before her and she had to create another.

"You've done something to me." Her lips parted and she started to shake her head, to deny she'd done anything to his mind, but he reached up to her cheek, cupped it with his big palm and nodded softly. His eyes were bleak as he reached behind her head and stroked her shoulder even as he pulled her toward him – into his arms, against his chest. "Please, Asajj. Don't deny it. Don't lie to me. This cannot affect the war; it can't affect the information you've been gathering from me or the information I've gathered from you."

Asajj wasn't sure if he had spoken or merely thought it. But he was wrong. Yes, she had broken him, but he had brought lust into her equation.

Asajj wanted to give him what he wanted, to bring that smile to his face, to settle his despair into the peace he was seeking. It wasn't in her so she was silent to his plea, turned her face away from him and slept. Most mornings she woke with eyelashes damp from unshed tears.

It was only lust, she reminded herself. There was no such thing as love.

* * *

Hevy held her in his arms, stroking her skin softly. He no longer slept in the holding cell; he slept with her in her bed, in her room though One and Two mumbled as they guarded the doorway. She was asleep curled against his belly and he pulled her closer with his arms. It was all terribly comfortable to Hevy though he was determined not to believe her in any way.

She was an enemy commander, Count Dooku's dark acolyte. Perhaps it was better and more accurate to say she feigned sleep; to say she pretended to find pleasure in his arms. He knew she couldn't love him.

It frightened him, whatever this dark Jedi thing she had done was. He planned escape but now details eluded him. He could destroy the droids. It would be easy enough given the lax way One and Two now guarded him. He and Asajj sparred each day in the docking bay. He knew the presence of the extra flyer, her backup. They slept together. It was paradise and he thanked whatever gods or angels had set him in her company. He could choose a moment like this to imprison her; killing her seemed a distasteful option but if he needed to … could he? He imagined her dead; his fingers on her throat, her crystal eyes staring, her beating heart stilled. Hevy frowned. No, he couldn't do that. Not anymore.

She would be the most difficult obstacle to overcome. But there were other problems. Were there more droids? He had to assume so. What kind of security was on the fliers? How did one fly one anyway? He wasn't a pilot – just a ground-pounding heavy weapons guy with an interest in demolitions and making big explosions.

And Asajj – his finger stroked the skin of her hip – how much of this was real and how much was deceit. He tucked his head against the back of her shoulder and neck breathing in the heady perfume of her skin.

What had she done to him?

What mind control power had she used to make him feel this way?

How much of this was real?

He'd beg her. He'd draw a knife across his throat if she asked. But would he destroy his brothers for her? Would he turn against the Jedi? Against the Republic?

She'd broken him, in a subtle way. He knew that. He had to …. _What,_ he asked himself. _What can I do? _She turned toward him and he buried his face into her encircling arms. _Later,_ he thought. _I'll think on it later._

He felt silent tears in his eyes; he refused to let them go.

* * *

Well, today you have a twofer – new chapters here and in Scars. Both fairly short. Next for Rishi …. Probably back to Echo and Fives.

Read, enjoy, review. I love your comments.


	17. The Child is Father to the Man

**The Child is Father to the Man**

Hevy hit the heavy punching bag.

He had broken. He wasn't who he had been.

The sound was a solid thunk that reverberated through his body. He twisted, bringing his other fist in for a hit. Another solid hit. He moved slowly, seeking perfection in form and the comforting, rhythmic sound of his fists against the material. Speed was messy in anger and Hevy needed perfection at the moment.

He had shattered; had died in her arms.

Yet he wasn't angry at her. Asajj had only done what she was supposed to do. Again, his fist hit the twill of the bag; his arm extended in perfect balance with his body. His arm came back into position, prepared for the next blow. He extended his other arm, again in perfect precision.

He was angry at himself, for thinking that he was a hero at Rishi. His sacrifice hadn't been in vain but was it needless? Should he have listened to the captain? Why couldn't they set it up to trigger remotely and who had checked the datapads last? He was angry at his brothers; they should have retrieved his body. They, not Asajj's droids. He was angry at the Kaminoans. Why'd they cut the training short? Was there something in that training he had missed that could have kept him from being captured? Was there something that would have kept him from breaking?

But in the end, he was angry at himself because he had broken.

Being broken was only the beginning; that much Hevy knew. He had some idea that she would twist him into something unrecognizable and there was only one way to prevent that.

In his mind, he began as he had in the bacta tank after the explosion. Hevy began at the beginning.

_Aurek_. The mirror of the sky. As above, so below

_Besh_. The observing eye. As the heart, so the soul.

_Cresh_. Movement and stillness. As without, so within

_Dorn_. Balance. As the pain, so the sin.

He had to pick up the broken pieces of himself, had to rebuild himself.

Under his breath, Hevy began at the Resol'nare, beginning with the child's mnemonic

_Ba'jur, beskar'gam,  
Ara'nov, aliit,  
Mando'a bal Mand'alor—  
An vencuyan mhi._

The Kaminoans hadn't truly approved of the Mando ways of Jango and his Cuy'val Dar, but Hevy was rebuilding himself and this time he would choose what was important.

_Wearing armor_

Walon Vau's voice stung his mind. "Mandalorians wear armor. It is to protect our skin." He had laughed at the cadets as he passed them one day with his ARC-trainees to the live fire field. "As if skin is worth saving," his words had been harsh. "What is worth the armor? What does it protect?" None of the clones had answered him, not even the ARC-trainees.

The blackened, bubbled streak down the back of his armor haunted him. He had lived. But why? What had his armor protected?

His options. Hevy decided it was as good an answer as any.

_Speaking the language._

"Why speak Mando'a beyond any other language?" Hevy could see the clues in that. It guided your thoughts. You couldn't think of something not in your lexicon or it was so prevalent as to be unnoticeable. As with 'coward', hut'tuun. The Mando emphasis on battle and balance was more to Hevy's mind that the Kaminoan economics and perfection. He'd already found he wasn't perfect.

_Defending yourself and your family_

Defend, not attack. Could you defend before being attacked? Certainly, Hevy's familiarity with _echani_ told him that. Family. Hevy paused, his face turned down and his arms still as he considered a child of his and Asajj, then he shook his head and began, once again, the rhythmic pounding on the bag. Family was brothers. There'd be no child for him; no child from the warrior-general that was Asajj.

_Raising your children as Mandalorians_

Raising your children. There'd be no children for Hevy; none for his brothers. But the child is the father of the man. Where had he heard that? Some Jedi on a vid? That sounded about right but Hevy liked the concept anyway. He was the child with no guidance to train the man he wished to become.

_Contributing to the clan's welfare_

Clan. A multi-generation group of people. There was no enduring clan of clones; his brothers had their culture, a mélange of Kaminoan economy, Mandalorian bravery and clone efficiency flash-drilled. But whatever 'clan' they consisted of would be dead in thirty years at the outside. They'd all be dead and then where would this culture go? Who would carry on clan ideas?

Why did it matter what he did? He'd be dead in time, Asajj would be dead the war merely a mention in history. What did it matter?

Hevy's fist stuttered on the bag. _What did it matter?_ He wiped the sweat from his face with his forearm. _What did it matter?_ He started the drill again, his fist punching the bag with physical perfection, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion.

_It matters because you are alive._

That was sufficient.

_When called upon by the __Mand'alor__, rallying to his cause_

Who was his mand'alor? Who did Hevy follow? Who did he chose to follow? Why did you follow a leader? For trust? For gain? His fists hit the bag. He followed Hevy. He was his own mand'alor calling himself to battle.

He knew where Hevy was; the core that was himself from which he could rebuild himself, the child in search of himself.

He would rebuild himself. Because it _mattered_. Not just for himself nor for his brothers.

For her as well.

* * *

The Resol'nare is by Karen Traviss and I utilized Wookiepedia for much of the Mandalorian information. The rest - *grin* - I made up myself.

'As above so below, as within so without' is a mystical hermetic principal. I played with it a little as well.

"The child is father to the man" – Williams Wordsworth

Things should start picking up for Hevy.

As always, read & enjoy & review.


	18. Messages

**Messages**

Ventress had watched Dooku's hologram fade with an angry frown. She disliked him more and more, his plans were coming apart even as they were planned by interference from the Jedi.

She was learning much about the clones – how they acted, reacted. She had known previously of their training, their origins, even classified portions of their trainings but knowledge didn't give experience. With Hevy – with this clone – she was gaining an insight into all clones. Their loyalty, not only to each other but to their ideals and their training, the fatalism they carried into battle, the now-ness with which they lived their short lives. Their regrets, their love for their brothers.

Count Dooku had ridiculed her plan to substitute counterfeit orders to several outlying Republic planets and their clone garrisons.

"The clones are nothing without their Jedi generals," he had declared with a sneer in his voice. Ventress didn't know if it was at her plan or at the clones but neither deserved that derision. "The droid army will have those planets before long. Already Poggle the Lesser has promised and is preparing a new foundry, more droids and better equipment."

Ventress had bowed her head. "Yes, master."

She understood better, now, the traitor's convoluted reasoning and how a clone captain had been able to alter her Force demand.

She'd had the dream again; several times now while asleep in Hevy's arms. She'd seen the white armored clones halt as the brought their blasters to ready and fire upon Jedi Master Mundi and, simultanously on a world parsecs away, on Jedi General Secura. She saw different portions of what had eluded her before. She knew names of clones, names of the Jedi they would kill, the planets they were on. Worse, Ventress saw beyond then. She saw worlds brought under a blanket of white armor.

Already tentative plans were forming in her mind, a way to use the clones against the Jedi. She understood what it would take for them to fire upon the Jedi. She realized that the Count's master was a powerful man indeed to control the clones. That meant he was highly placed within the Republic hierarchy of governance. This war was at his behest; he controlled the CIS through Count Dooku; the Republic through… who, she wondered as she slipped into her bed. Chancellor Palpatine? Alone, he was no more offensive than plain water, and would be no more effective once she discovered the Count's master.

Asajj curled deeper into the warmth of Hevy's arms as he pulled her closer to his chest, nuzzling the back of her neck. He was hers, she was sure of it.

* * *

Captain Rex blinked awake in the still darkness just as the IADT light flickered on the console and the alert gave a beep. It was an IADT message. Immediate action, disregard time. For an instant he regarded the blinking light then, with a sigh, set his thumb on the console to open the file.

Again it was a transmission of General Grievous, and Rex smiled. Grievous' voice was harsh as he coughed out instructions to his droid army and Rex was sure the Admiral already had that copied and was correlating it with maps and intelligence reports. There was that sparkle of static in the message. Obviously it hadn't been decoded which meant they were either permitting Echo and Fives the honor of being the first to hear Hevy's coded message – unlikely – or the message was scrambled to a different code than previously and the logical thing was to have a proven de-coder decode it.

Quickly he checked scheduling. Echo was training in the clinic with Coric while Fives was on the flight deck for Gold Squadron's flyer check. At least both men were awake this time. Looking at his bunk, he sighed longingly as he coded a message for both men to report immediately.

Echo and Fives were at his door before he had done much more than pull on some soft workout pants and a shirt.

"We have another message from Hevy," he told them as brought them into his room. Both men were in garrison fatigues rather than armor. Rex took them to the comm console where the frozen image of the droid general waited.

With a nod from Rex, Echo sat at the console, his fingers lightly tapping and brushing the controls. Whatever he did didn't work and for a while he stared into nothing, his brow wrinkled and a frown on his lips.

"Right day, Echo?" asked Fives. "You do remember our designations, don't you?"

"_Di-kut_, Of course, I remember our desigs. I've gone back…" He glanced at his captain for the Mando'a insult. Captain Rex merely raised an eyebrow. "Gone back three and two days." He looked up into Rex's face. "This is the second message that we've received from Hevy, isn't it?"

"As far as I know," Rex replied, realizing that Hevy was using a progressive code for his messages. "But try as if it's the third." Echo's fingers were already moving.

"No good." He pushed himself from the console, glaring at it angrily as if it were personally responsible for the holovids inactivity.

Fives was about to say something, but Rex gave a small shake of his head.

"What is the code, Echo? What changes and what stays the same?" Rex stepped closer to the console, the holovid of Grievous paused; that enticing sparkle of static was like a small constellation of stars leaping from his clawed hand.

Fives nodded. "Talk it through, Echo. We'll figure it out with you."

"Squad designations stay the same. Changes include the incoming frequency, which we know, the day of the Kaminoan month which we know or can find out easily enough, parallel chords of similar frequencies…" Echo waved his arms and began pacing the small round podium of the console.

"Echo," Fives said softly, his voice halting his brother's steps. "Squad designations stay the same, but the squad doesn't. Who's code were you using?"

"Yours, Hevy knows Cutup and Droidbait are dead." Echo replied.

"Who would be next if you had all survived?" Rex asked, stepping away from the console to give room to Echo.

Echo was already back in the chair, his fingers swiftly touching the console plate. "Cutup."

Captain Rex turned to Fives who was protectively leaning over Echo.

"I've got you now, Hevy," muttered Echo. "Thanks, Fives."

Echo pulled out the image, found the static parallel note and brought it up. Again, Hevy's voice came in time with Grievous' movement.

"Grievous, Dooku," came Hevy's voice. There was a harder stress on Count Dooku's name then a pause, slightly longer than the gesture of Grievous that ended in a soft breath of "Ventress' before continuing harshly. "Malevolence reborn. Alorian. Dooku."

This time there was no message for Fives or Echo, no further code buried in static.

"Malevolence," muttered Rex. "Ion cannon. And the biggest kriffing ship I ever saw. Its size alone makes it hard to take out, even disabled and without hyperdrive." He glanced at Fives with his hand on Echo's shoulder then at Echo, once again with a triumphant smile on his face. This time it was laced with bitterness. He ran the message through again.

Fives tilted his head at Hevy's words. "He's not afraid of Force users anymore."

"Or women," declared Captain Rex as he finished writing the message on the flimsi. "Why Dooku's name twice, I wonder?"

"Hevy intends to take him down," declared Echo. "Perhaps he sees a weakness that we can't see. But, for whatever reason, he intends to take down Count Dooku."

"He doesn't intend to come back," said Fives softly. "It's a suicide mission."

Captain Rex nodded his understanding. "Permission to take point, Hevy."

* * *

As always - read, enjoy, review.

I will be doing Nanowrimo for the month of November and will not be posting anything at that time. I should be back in December.


	19. Malevolence Reborn

**Malovolence Reborn**

Hevy breathed out through his mouth then took a deep breath into his nostrils.

It was time.

Asajj had been distant and preoccupied the past few ship's days. Meditating often and prepping her starfighter. Though she'd tried to keep that information secret, Hevy had noticed the change in the deck's arrangement of fuel. There was a quiet desperation to her lovemaking and, unusually, she allowed herself to sleep curled in his arms all night instead of waking in the small hours to meditate.

Then he had felt the deep vibration of another ship and she'd be gone most of the time, returning in a mood of sharpness and repressed anger.

Hevy couldn't avoid feeling the rumbling vibration through his feet or when he touched the wall of Asajj's comparatively little ship. Whatever ship she was attached to was enormous. He had timed the vibration and seen the waves in liquid. The pattern was too complex, with too many vectors. Beyond that, he didn't have the training to know.

He stood and moved to the door of his makeshift cell. "One, come here. I want to go practice."

"Sorry, republic dog, you know the rules. No practice unless the mistress is on-board." That droid actually sounded unhappy to deny Hevy his exercise.

Hevy sat on the small bunk. "Well, maybe you could teach me to count to seven."

"Four, the next number in the sequence is four." One was patient; after all he'd gotten the republic dog up to three.

One opened the cell door and stepped inside, his blaster at his side.

"You've been a good friend, One." The clone sounded different from his usual self and One looked at his face carefully. It wouldn't do for him to become ill; the mistress would not be happy.

There was an odd ripping sound. How odd that One's optical receptors saw only republic dog from below, how odd the focus was narrowing. One saw a headless droid slump to the floor, the blaster in the hands of the republic dog as he bent and took something from the headless droid. One tried to tilt his head to see what republic dog was taking but his focus was no longer under his control.

That was disturbing.

* * *

Hevy stroked his fingers over his armor, then quickly armored up. One stood guard at the doorway though Hevy had already taken care of Two. He'd checked the hangar to confirm for himself that the time was now. Asajj's starfighter was gone.

"Recite your orders, One." Hevy snapped the shoulder bolts closed and reached for his helmet.

"Prisoner transfer to Count Dooku's personal carrier, republic dog."

"Say it like you mean it," Hevy chuckled as he pulled on his helmet, pausing a moment to… admire? wonder at how close death had been? …the black crackling on the back of his helmet. He'd faced death before, surely it would be easier the second time around. "Let's move."

He was on Dooku's ship before he set up his receiver for passive input. He could go active and transmit to his brothers, but that would alert the enemy and they'd be able to triangulate his position. Passive, he could hear much of the battle from the Republic fighters as they slipped in and out of range. Besides, it wasn't as if they could get him off the ship.

He moved quickly, the equipment he'd stolen from the storeroom in his belt pouches, his own blaster in its holster, Two's blaster tucked in a carry-all slung over One's back.

Behind his helmet, a frown pulled at his lips. The ship was larger than he had imagined.

* * *

_"I'm sorry, Asajj." His voice was soft and she heard the pain in it, felt something inside her answer that pain. "I will not betray my brothers."_

Echo, armored up and assisting the medics in the hangar deck, recognized that voice. "What the ..?". He glanced toward Coric and closed commed him then, with his permission, ran toward the closest large receiver which happened to be on the _Resolute's_ bridge. "Hevy," he called through his helmet comm, as he ran, hoping his brother was close enough. He got a ping, but nothing more. He bit his lip as he realized why Hevy wouldn't be able to answer. "Echo here, I'll be ready for any transmission in a few moments. If you need to do an info dump before then, I'll stream it to Fives as well."

_"They betray you. As the Jedi betrayed my first master. You are nothing to them – but their bloody hands of war." Asajj could feel her anger at his words. Count Dooku would destroy him if he was discovered._

"What the…?" Obi-wan didn't recognize that odd flare in Ventress' Force signature which snaked out and seemed to be unexpectedly gentle. Kenobi reached out to the small fighter wrecking havoc among the Republic fighters. Beneath the anger and rage which drove Ventress, were pain and despair so evident to him now. She missed her next shot and didn't bother with a Y-wing which was in her path far too long. Ventress was reaching… reaching but her anguish at not being able to reach far enough brought tears to Kenobi's eyes.

_Hevy was silent for a moment, wanting her to say he was something to her, but it didn't come. He had wanted to know he'd been important to her. That he'd been… unique. He sighed softly with a smile. It didn't matter. Not really. He loved her and that was sufficient. Then he bent to his task, forcing his mind to attention. He couldn't afford to let it drift now. His words were recorded from his helmet directly to her ship and through any Republic fighters close enough on his frequency. There'd be no emotional ambiance behind his words for Dooku to trace. The droids would trace his transmissions, he had to work quickly, but they wouldn't know his words._

Anakin heard that soft sigh, recognized it for what it was, he'd heard it so many times in his own voice in speaking with Padme. "What the…?"

_"Perhaps. But that's them, not me. It isn't any side of the Force, Asajj, or any part of the Republic or Separatist. Simply who I am."_

Fives recognized that voice on direct line with Echo. He grinned widely. Hevy was alive! Fives tried to pinpoint where the transmission was coming from and received a coordinate deep from within Grievous' ship? He frowned. "What the …?"

_And your brother, the traitor? Asajj retorted. "Did he know nothing?" _

Echo made the bridge, reached over the arm of the sergeant and made sure the receiver was set on record. Unknowingly, Echo ssh-ed not only the communications chief, but Admiral Yularen as well. His fingers flew over the com board. He pulled off his bucket obstructing his view and handed it to someone standing beside him. A long time ago it had been a code game, one of the few intellectual games that had interested Hevy. Echo pulled through his memory for the codes they had made up. His voice held a note of wonderment as blue light began to form an image. He smiled in wonder as, behind him, other voices spoke. "What the…?"

_"Maybe he was afraid of being who he was; maybe he was afraid of dying. Maybe he was afraid of looking into our brothers' dead eyes." Hevy's fingers worked the stolen detonators around the plunk droids as he chose the pre-recorded phrase. He couldn't chance saying them to her… just the final ones… because he knew Dooku was on board, had to be on board something this big._

_He hadn't made it to the Count's private carrier and One had been destroyed at the entrance to this supply depot. There was no option of a remote here. There wasn't enough time. He didn't know the ship, couldn't find a dock in time, couldn't fly even if found one. She'd be back soon. Hevy grinned sardonically. _

_Plunk droids. He'd seen the plunk droids, thousands of them resting against the deck walls, waiting for a signal and he'd known what to do._

Admiral Yularen raised an eyebrow at the clone trooper now working over the buttons, whose helmet had been thrust into his hand. He hadn't been ssh-ed by anyone since he'd been in school, since long before this clone's birth, since he'd been a child. Yet, he recognized the intensity and touched Marker on the shoulder, silently ordering him to move aside with a nod. Blue light welled up from the computer as it transcribed the transmission. "What …?" Yularen's eyes glittered and the admiral began to grin as he recognized the skeleton of a war frigate forming in the holoscreen. He noted modifications of CIS designs.

The clone tilted his head; then looked down at the board, his fingers working more slowly. A second holo came into view – Yularen gasped; it was real-time transmissions from Grievous's bridge, Count Dooku at his side and how the _hell_ had a clone gotten that?

"Feed that to all local," he commanded. The clone did so with an absent flick of his fingers, still frowning, and Marker pull it up on another console, feeding it further to relevant command groups.

A third holo was pulled on the bridge. An archived information dump. Yularen, not a betting man, would bet his _Resolute_ aginst anything that dump was full of CIS codes. Again the clone tilted his head. "How many layers, Hevy?" he muttered as his fingers danced over the console.

The answer was four. The last holo was also real time. It showed a clone, helmetless and armor black streaked; kneeling behind something. A fueling plunk droid, Yularin absently identified, doing something with whatever he held in his hands.

"Aw, Hevy," said the clone at his side as his fingers reached to the blue figure and his fingers slipped through it. The figure noticed him and reached out his own hand, palm to palm with Echo. Then he gave a shrug of his shoulders and returned to his task, humming a catchy, little tune. Yularen noted tears in the trooper's eyes and softly patted the man on the shoulder. He moved to Marker's side, handing the clone's helmet to another trooper.

_"Fear is a powerful motivator." Had he been referring to the traitor or to himself?. He still wasn't sure. If he saw her again, he would . . . what? Betray them all? Betray himself? He wasn't sure if he was hurrying because he didn't want her to die in the blast or because he didn't want to be caught. And the droids were coming. He could feel the vibration of their metal feet on the deck, a counter-point to the deep rumbling of the ship itself. They must have caught his transmission. He felt a moment's sympathy for One. He smiled as Echo reached out a hand. "You've been a good brother." He murmured into the open channel._

General Grievous didn't recognize the voice, but he did recognize that the transmission was coming from his ship. "What…?" It came out as part growl, part snarl and hacking cough. Count Dooku's eyes widened as one of the droids brought up the image of a clone doing something near some plunk droids. Dooku frowned, rage coloring his face. He reached out through the Force to touch the clone's mind.

Happy thoughts greeted him; some endless tune circled through his head.

_Happy, happy. Plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk. Love-ly explooo-sions._ The clone hummed beneath his breath.

"He's on board, sir." One of the droids turned towards the Count, far less destructive than General Grievous. "Should I send some…"

"Yes, yes," commanded Dooku as he angrily turned away from the bridge with a look of cold hatred at Grievous.

_Hevy looked at the plunk droids and smiled, patting it on his broad, flat side. The explosion would escalate, slowly spreading through the ship as the armed plunk droids he'd sent out all exploded – one after another – like dominos. It wouldn't directly destroy something this big, but it would disable sections of it, weakening it for the Republic starfighters. He sighed. There'd probably be time for Count Dooku or General Grievous to escape, but he hoped not. He hoped he'd catch them off-guard. There were plenty of plunks to take down this ship along with Grievous and Count Dooku. He glanced toward the doorway. The droids had arrived. He smiled and slipped his helmet on, comming her craft directly._

_"I'm sorry Asajj." His voice came into the comm unit of her small craft. It was the only part of his message that hadn't been pre-recorded, the only part that carried no code. The only part that had no presence in any ship but hers. Because it was live. Because it didn't seem right to tell her over some recording. _

_He'd been wrong. Dying a second time was no easier. It was harder, the regrets fiercer, the urge to run and retreat even greater._

"I promise you I'll love you," she could hear that vibrant timbre of his voice; see his cocky half smile in her memory, "for the rest of my life."

There was the bloom of an explosion and she knew it had been on Grievous' ship. The galaxy would be… less for his absence.

Asajj didn't cry for him. Not during the fight, not during the retreat and not later.

But sometimes she dreamed of him and, in his youthful simplicity, he smiled at her and promised her everything would be all right.

* * *

I seemed to recall a second Malevolence being planned when I skimmed Wookiepedia once, but can't find it anymore.

There will be one epilogue taking place on Boz Pity and you might want to Wookiepedia Ventress…

As always, read and review and enjoy…


	20. Epilogue

A/N – You might want to skim Wookiepedia for 'Asajj Ventress', Battle of 'Boz Pity' and 'Alpha-17' before reading this story.

**Epilogue – Two years later at Boz Pity**

Ventress woke on the Republic medical transport. She'd lowered her body process until they thought her dead; , even Kenobi had though her dead and, she supposed, she might be in some way. Light-headedly, she moved silently through the corridor to the cockpit. It was a simple thing to commandeer the ship; to touch their minds with the Force. She felt like fine energy, too strong to remain constrained in her own body.

"Where to, sir?" asked the navigator.

"Just far away. Far from the Jedi, from this war, from Count Dooku. Just fly as far away as you can." Asajj felt other life forms on the ship, wounded, pained, hurt both physically and emotionally. _Like you are, Asajj_, Hevy whispered to her softly and she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck. _They're my brothers, will you help them?_ Hevy had so rarely asked her for anything, preferring their battle of wills. Absently, she smiled in memory and heard his answering chuckle. Asajj felt loved by his hug and, for the only time in her life, simply let it be, let it exist between them.

She found them in the med unit. Clones. Asajj shook her head, not clones but Hevy's brothers. The four bacta tanks were occupied while the reminder of the clones lay on gurneys and cots. The most wounded from the battle of Boz Pity. She felt a bond of kinship with them.

One recognized her and lifted his blaster, but his arm was bloody and too weak to aim. The blaster fell from his fingers.

"Sleep." she told him as the winds of space swept through her. She recognized it now; she was dying and becoming less a user of the Force and more a part of it. The medics were battle trained and two also grabbed for blasters. She pulled all the blasters from the room. "Sleep", she told them all, and they did so. She woke one medic, a sergeant by his armor. "Tend to the wounded then sleep," she said as she sat the poor physicality of her body on some flat surface. The medic turned to some cabinet and gathered supplies.

"Not much longer, Hevy." Her voice was soft and only Hevy heard her.

_No, not much longer_. But Hevy frowned angrily at his words. Asajj longed to reach up and touch her lover's lips with her finger. Her fingers reached, but it was the returning medic whose lips she touched. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, but took her hand and set it next to her as he gently pressed his arm to her shoulders, taking her down to whatever surface was beneath her. She floated; touching space and stars and Kenobi and poor deceived Dooku. Hevy smiled at her then gently took her by the shoulders and pressed her to whatever surface was beneath her.

"I don't know how you're standing, you should be in a tank," the medic was saying as Ventress listened to his faraway words. "You don't seem to be in pain but I'll have anodyne ready when you need it."

"I won't need it," she smiled at him. Or was it Hevy she smiled at? The medic seemed truly concerned and she wondered who he thought she was. He placed the hypospray to her neck and….

Asajj Ventress slammed breathlessly into her body, the intransient colors of space and Force and all that beauty, fading to shadows. Hevy, his smile warm and his golden eyes gleaming, fading with his words. _Not yet, Asajj. Not me._

"Knew it would work," muttered the medic triumphantly. "_Kriffing_, ignorant med droids." He ran his scanner over her then leaned over her face. "Commander," he whispered, she knew, though it sounded like he was shouting and his breath was a scorching wind over the skin of her cheek. "You'll be over-sensitive to external stimuli for a while. I'd suggest a healing trance. I'll be here for you when you wake."

Ventress wondered again. Who did he think she was? She raised a hand and almost touched his face. "Sleep", she commanded, setting herself in a healing trance as his eyes shut.

* * *

Asajj Ventress returned to the bacta tanks and pressed a hand to one as she recognized the clone there, both by his Force presence and by the scars she herself had inflicted. He was asleep, helpless, in the tank. He'd be ready in about three days, the light saber wound, low in his abdomen, healed.

Asajj checked the other three bacta tanks. They'd all be ready to go within three days. She nodded to herself and went to the cockpit to alter the plans she'd told the pilots. She had them take shifts. The trance had helped and she wouldn't die of her wounds. She spent time between the cockpit and the med unit, usually meditating. Most of the time she explained Hevy's appearance as a dream or the relived memories of a dying mind. Most of the time.

The others slept. She woke the ones in the med unit as necessary to have them feed themselves and exercise their muscles. The medics she woke to attend the wounded. One clone hadn't been healing well and she'd reached her hand over him, doing what needed to be done, doing what the medics couldn't. There was no reason not to. He woke momentarily and Asajj stared into those amber brown eyes. But this clone had no cocky half-smile and his voice held no recognition of her.

"Thank you." He had said quizzically as he recognized her and worried that he was being healed for some nefarious purpose.

"Sleep," she told him, touching the backs of her fingers to the tattoo dancing along his jaw. "Forget I was here."

Two men died and she followed the medics, their emotions sharp in grief, as they took the bodies to the on-board morgue. They expected her to say something and so she did even though she could see the shades of the two dead men. One was taciturn, eyeing her warily then sighing and giving her his name. "Wooley, Commander Cody's second in command." The other laughed and turned his head from her, looking beyond her sight, pleasure evident on his face. Only for an instant did he turn back to her. "Boil," he said then moved on as though he had more important things to do.

The one in the bacta tank healed as well as he ever would. She looked at him and, reaching out with the Force, woke him. He was instantly aware. He recognized her and glared at her with hatred.

"Hello Alpha. It has been a long time." She bowed her head and sucked in her lower lip, worrying it with her teeth. "Perhaps not that long in time, but so long in my mind." She moved from the bacta tank. His hate was … unnerving, it was personal; not a clone's for the enemy but his hatred for her.

"I have no more taste for war, for torture. I am heading to the Outer Rim and will drop you off at a neutral planet. There is a pilot and a navigator. I will not need them. They and the other three in bacta tanks will need to assist the three medics with twenty six wounded." She looked him in the eyes, her crystal blue to his velvet brown and gave the wicked smile he remembered. "I didn't think you'd want to leave them with me." She felt his rage of agreement.

Her silver blue eyes took on a different look. "I do not think you will ever walk again. Grievous' light saber went through you, sliced into and cauterized half of your spinal cord at the third lumbar vertebra. The bacta tank cannot heal that." She felt his momentary loss of self at the news.

Alpha didn't completely believe her. Not about the other clones, not about his own wound. There were too many lies and half-truths in her past. Yet she seemed … empty. She left him in the bacta tank, awake, but she turned a monitor so he could see the wounded and the medics. For a moment he thought they were dead then he saw breathing, the gentle movement of sleeping men.

"I will return in several hours so you will sleep." she glanced down at the monitor. "I thought it inconvenient to have clones awake and wandering around, so they are all asleep." She departed the room returning several hours later to add sleeper to his bacta tank. He saw her flick off the monitor as he drifted.

She woke him each day and flicked the monitor on for him. Then she would go into the med unit and wake the others - the medics to heal, the wounded to eat or move. He saw they were alive and part of him rejoiced and part of him wondered what terrible thing she would do to them.

After three days, he saw her go in among the wounded. She woke the medics and ordered them to prepare to evacuate the wounded, told them to forget her. She came to the bacta tanks and released the other three troopers and gave them instructions as well. All Forced enhanced.

"We're on Arkanis, Alpha." She told him. "Near Hutt trade routes, near the Corellian Run. It should not be too difficult for you to get back to Coruscant or the front lines." She paused. "If you want to go back. The end is coming soon for the Jedi. Order 66 will be given within two or three months."

She looked at him. "I will give you your choice, Alpha – for our 'history' together." A corner of her lips quirked, in memory or pain, he couldn't tell. "Would you prefer to be released now and given Force commands or would you prefer to wait and I will release you with no commands for the medics will take you outside immediately before my departure?"

He hated her, wanted to kill her. He wanted to wrap his fingers around her slender, delicate neck and squeeze the life out of her. He knew she was touching his mind and he visualized it as vividly and in as much detail as he could.

"I see." Her voice was soft. "You prefer to wait." She didn't move away though. She sighed in memory. Hevy had once had his fingers on her neck, those self-same carotid arteries; deliberating whether to kill her or not. He had not tried.

She turned to leave then paused. She spoke without looking at Alpha. "If you would promise not to hinder me in any way, I would trust you. You could wait in the cockpit and view everything through the monitors or you could be taken planetside with the rest of the men."

That was not an offer he'd expect of her.

She felt him pause then agree. He could keep his hate, but he would keep his word as well. She remembered Hevy's words. _We have only our names, our promise and our life to give._ Alpha lived by that code as well; she could feel it imbedded in his every thought. She started the de-tanking process and called one of the medics to assist him.

They were still off-loading the wounded when she came up to the cockpit, to see him where he'd ordered the medic to take him. The anti-grav life the medic had used to transport him was by his side as he sat in the co-pilot's seat. He was wearing his dark bodysuit.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing to one of the containers that had been off-loaded. It set near some armor and that surprised him as well. She was giving them back their armor.

"Medical supplies; for the wounded, then for trade if you wish. It might make it easier to find a ship and pilot for transport. I will not leave a transmitter with you. I wish to be long gone before anyone arrives." She looked at him sadly. "I thought it a reasonable compromise."

He nodded. "What about our weapons?" They were clone troopers. They were naked without their weapons.

"They are in the last case I will unload. It will be locked so you will have no chance to fire on the ship, but you should be able to find the keycode sufficiently quick."

He leaned back, clumsily, and cursed. He'd known he wouldn't be able to walk or even feel his legs, but hadn't realized that the spine controlled so much of his movement from the waist as well. He didn't realize how much movement he'd done without thinking about it. He set himself back into the chair with his arms, his legs dangling, useless. She did not offer help. There'd never been kindness in her. He hadn't thought she would, but still, he appreciated that she let him manage by himself. There'd never been pity in her either.

His brain mocked him. If there was no compassion in her, then why had she trusted him? If there was no kindness, why was she leaving them on this planet rather than killing them? If there was no kindness why was she giving them armor, weapons, trade goods….?

"What do you know of Order 66?" he asked. Even the Jedi weren't really aware of that contingency. Or if they were aware of it, they ignored it.

She leaned back in the pilot's seat. "It is the first order into a far darker future. It is a contingency order to destroy the Jedi as traitors and you are flash-drilled to carry it out." She shook her head. "It is thought to be impossible to disobey, although some few clones will. The Empire will chase them down like the traitors they will become."

"You mean the GAR." He corrected.

She shook her head and Alpha saw something otherworldly in her gaze. "The Republic won't last even as long as the burning Jedi temple on Coruscant. The Republic is mostly gone already." She gave a snort of breath. "Then again, I begin to suspect I am a cynic."

He thought about that. He thought about his brothers and looked out the window to see medics and men moving the wounded beyond the blowback range of the transport. "What happens to the clones?"

"As a group they are absorbed into the Imperial army. They go to war. They die. The same they do now." She looked at him. "And if they survive, they die before their time. The Empire will be less kind to them than the Republic. This war has lasted three years and I am sick of it all. The Empire will bring war for twenty years." She leaned back in the pilot's seat and closed her eyes.

Alpha sucked in his breath. He didn't know anything besides war, but somewhere he had a memory of a dream of no-war; of clones not dying, even sleeping in stasis - peaceful.

Of course, he was useless for war now, anyway. They might send him to Kamino for reconditioned or they might allow him to retire, an option the troopers did not receive.

"Are you going back to Rattatak?" He'd been there. Imprisoned. Tortured. By her. Most of the scars on his body were hers. Rattatak was not a place he wished to ever visit again.

She shook her head. "Not Rattatak. There is nothing there for me." She paused. "There is nothing in me now, but emptiness. I need to …"

He saw her lips tremble, twist as though she were trying not to cry.

"I don't know." She finally said.

He believed her.

Alpha set aside his personality and reached into the empty place. He normally used that in battle. It was the place where action came from; where one could act in accordance without thinking. Most of the ARCs had been trained in that reaching and he'd heard it was like a Jedi touching the Force.

He set himself in that place in his mind and watched his truest actions.

He saw his upper body try to turn to Ventress, saw his hands grab the arms of the seat to keep from falling out. Heard himself curse. Heard his voice …

"Would you like a co-pilot?"

He saw her nod, softly, slowly.

* * *

Two months later he had those dangling, worthless appendages removed. They'd be a hinderance in the null of space. Different muscles took over stabilizing his core and he re-learned how to sit. The powerchair became his primary means of movement and he loathed it.

Ventress spent much of her time in meditation or in refining her martial arts. Alpha missed that; missed the beauty and perfection that had been his practice. He knew she saw his face when she practiced, the longing and want to join her in one of those beautiful katas. He worked his upper body, but there was nothing for the rest of him; there was very little 'rest of him'.

She didn't practice with her light sabers though. He wondered if coming with her had been the wrong action. Then, one day, he made a joke. Her lips had twitched in humor and he had laughed softly. "Asajj, you do have a sense of humor!"

She turned on him, her face anger and need and tears and something bitter and old and hurt. She was about to say something. He knew better than do anything more than observe. Her mouth opened. . .

He waited

A long keening burst forth. Emotion pent up, drained from her like an abscessed wound. She dropped to her knees, curled on the floor, her face tucked in her arms against the floor, sobs shaking her body.

Alpha moved himself next to her, using his strong arms to pull himself backwards, positioning himself next to her, his back to a console. He silently cursed that he didn't have much of a lap for her to lay upon, but he gave her what he had. She moved, put her arms around him and sobbed into his chest, her hips where his legs had once been.

He put his arms around her, just holding her. No soft murmurs or words of comfort because for some pain there were no words. Just holding her.

She'd done the same when he'd had the legs removed.

"They're marching on the temple." She said softly as her body shook. "The 501st. It's happening now." She was quiet for a moment, pushing away the immediancy of what was happening. Pushing away those deaths she had once longed for. Emotion demanded release and tears rolled from her eyes.

Alpha wished he could walk. He would pick her up and carry her to her cabin, hold her and wipe those tears away. His mind skittered over what might happen if he could have done that. He simply held her. Her tears soaked into the material of his shirt.

"The last man to call me Asajj was also a clone. He was my prisoner. He was my lover." She touched a scar on Alpha's neck with a shaking finger. She had put it there. New tears formed in her crystal-colored eyes and ran down her cheeks. "Even now I am not sure what information he gave the GAR during his imprisonment. In the end, he escaped the safety of my ship and blew up General Grievous' destroyer, Dooku was there and barely escaped. That's how Hevy died." Alpha nodded, acknowledging a brother's sacrifice. "I never mourned him. I was angry with him for deserting me." She thought for a minute and gave Alpha something he would understand. "He gave me his name, he gave me his promise that he loved me. I see now that when he gave his life it was not only for his brothers but also for me. Dooku's death then would have ... freed me in a way. He was not only my lover, he loved me."

Alpha quoted, "I have only my name, my promise and my life to give, but they are mine to give as I will." he rubbed her back softly. "It's not true, of course. Our lives were the Republics to take and only sometimes our own."

Asajj took a breath, deep and healing.

The only other person to call me Asajj was my first teacher, a Jedi called Ky. He found me on Rattatak. He intended me to go to the Jedi temple for training. That never happened. Where might I be if it had?"

"Dead." Alpha said, unemotionally.

"You are probably correct. Even now, I can feel absences. Windu, Skywalker, Unduli, Secara, Fisto… They are dead." Her eyes narrowed. "Yoda is alive, Kenobi." She sniffed and covered her face with her hands. When she moved them, her face was her own, under her control. She started to rise.

Alpha gritted his teeth at her being that much taller than him. He disliked looking up at her, regretted what had happened to him. He tended not to look up at her when they talked except when she was seated eye-level with him. He grabbed her wrist before she had stood and pulled her down so he could look into her face, into her eyes. She folded herself into a meditation posture. It forced room between them though their eyes were level with each other's. Alpha understood that, she thought her outburst was a weakness in front of her enemy. The posture was a way for her to mentally regroup. She looked at him, questioning with her ice-blue eye.

Alpha thought a moment to the start of the conversation. "Do you not want me to call you Asajj?"

"I don't know." She paused. "Ventress is not who I am anymore." She glanced down at her hands, relaxed by long habit in pose. "I think I would like that."

"Asajj," he said. "Go mourn Hevy. Go mourn your enemies. Go mourn Ky. Go mourn who you were, because that person is no longer."

Asajj meditated. She let the tears fall for all the sadness in the galaxy. Toward the end of her meditation she opened her eyes and was unsurprised to see Hevy seated across from her. He smiled and reached out to brush a tear from her cheek. He gave a soft shrug with one shoulder. _Love didn't end just because I died._ He looked away, behind him, then stood and bent over her. He kissed her on the cheek and she gasped, feeling the touch of his lips. _It's not me though, Asajj._ Hevy gestured his head toward the cockpit of the transport. _It's Alpha. He's your future and it's a good future, Asajj_. He gave her a cocky grin. _Don't mess it up_. Then he was gone.

Asajj stood from her meditation and moved back to the cockpit. Alpha turned his head back to her and there was the barest relaxation, the slightest upward curl to his lips as he saw her. She came and placed one hand on his shoulder. He tilted his face quizically up at her. She bent and kissed him, tentatively, on the lips.

He hesitated, then stroked her cheek with his fingers. Her future unfurled before her.

They lived happily ever after far away from the Core, the Empire and the rebellion.

* * *

I hope you've enjoyed the story. As always, reviews are intensely enjoyed.


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